Some water has flown under the bridges... still digging in boxes searching for books, memories of the last half year, discovering brass Lincoln faces and Swiss coins, souvenirs of a journey, which is still going on; a mug with a cute clumsy reindeer, escaped from a past memory so far, I almost don't believe I can recollect the words spoken in that precise moment; books..... books adopted in a moment of specific mental phase, they felt so right.
Life is made of memories, otherwise we would levitate on undefined time, recognizing only the present, without the right balance with our pasts. Even if painful, they've made us the way we walk the world today.