Seems just like yesterday. Or, does it?
I can distinctly recollect what the real yesterday felt like, and it was nothing like that day which suddenly feels so near me, that I call it yesterday.
So close, it seems like I could turn around and see it unfold in all its vividly minute details. Like I could reach out and clasp it like moonbeams in my palm: such is its pulsating tactility.
Perhaps, its just that, all the years, months, minutes and moments that stood between that day and today, seemed to have closed in~almost collapsed~like the flaps of a piano accordion.
I can distinctly recollect what the real yesterday felt like, and it was nothing like that day which suddenly feels so near me, that I call it yesterday.
So close, it seems like I could turn around and see it unfold in all its vividly minute details. Like I could reach out and clasp it like moonbeams in my palm: such is its pulsating tactility.
Perhaps, its just that, all the years, months, minutes and moments that stood between that day and today, seemed to have closed in~almost collapsed~like the flaps of a piano accordion.
