Forgetfulness is like the breeze rattling the dry leaves in autumn. It suggests a time passed in which nature was soft and new. Where a person seldom had to look up to see where he was headed. And should he dare a smiling face would greet him on the street. But slowly the passage of time masked his eagerness and pursuits. The mirrored faces began to blur on the sidewalks edge, and the clear borders which captured his thoughts turned opaque. Where once stood a doorway is a smooth marbled wall. The sounds no longer lead inward but refract and lead further outward towards the bitter damp wilderness. An environment where thoughts consume to much time and smiles reveal cruel intentions.
His rhythmic footsteps upon concrete transform to a bounding gait across raw earth. Whistled howls rebound in the twisted valleys of his mind. Light and dark hues wax and wane across his furrowed brow. And the sounds which once greeted him home stab at his unfamiliar and trepid heartbeat. His hands are the only reassuring site. They give his heart a momentary pause and his mind time to reflect on the cool dense air. And as he looks up for signs of rain a sparrow darts across the gray sky; reminding him to seek shelter. And so he unsheathes his umbrella and opens it in the nick of time.
