Lost Journeys Comments

The pillars sending signals to the earth's poles, home, grasslands, the roar of the rocky river on that bridge are memories. Some things become lessons. It's about how to hold gently. Caressing skin that starts to wrinkle. Through thousands of events, finally, there's a name that will remain in this heart, but no longer together. Like rain paintings on the window.

We will age as travelers who never tire. It's delightful to see you, and I never cease to be fascinated finding something, while at the same time you pursue something else. Like children among rows of blooming flower petals.
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