It's strange how some things, seemingly trivial at the time, end up being the most important stitches in our lives. It's a melody heard in passing, a scent in the breeze.
We cling to fleeting moments like photographs worn at the edges. Have you ever rummaged through an old box, only to find a puzzle with a few pieces missing? The faded picture still tells a story, even if time has devoured a portion of it.
I wonder, do you feel that too? Those spaces where something should fit, but life's hurried hands have misplaced them? We wander, seeking what was once complete.
Let's talk one more time about the summer of '99, the tune playing on the radio with the windows down, the warmth of sunburnt memories.
Maybe all that's needed are glue and patience, and a willing heart to try to fit what remains. A gentle reminder, perhaps, that even incompleteness has its beauty.
Echoes of Tomorrow A Trail of Breadcrumbs Wanderer's Threads