Memories and Movies
I searched through the attic of my mind for memories long hidden in dark corners and opened a round metal container covered in dust. With care, I unwind and thread the old movie reel, damaged with age, and smeared by tears, into my imaginary projector.
The memories, filled with an image here, an image there, look more like ghosts than humans, but still I smile. Pictures flash, they tickle my mind like feathers against my neck, whispering in my ear, then as wisps of smoke slipping through my fingers they vanish.
I pushed at my hair brushing away the cobwebs, closed the box and put the memories where I found them until another rainy day.
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