The Red Mist of Nostalgia

This is a recount of a dream I once had. — I stood rooted to the cold concrete, entranced by what I saw. Before me were glowing red mists, swirling in a curious fashion. It gained momentum and slowly manifested into people I knew. At this point more than twenty of them faced me. Though, they still had the reddish quality of the mist, each were frozen into the mannerisms they were well-known for. He had his trademark smirk, she had her cheeky grin; another had his hand on his nose, as if he had been rubbing it previously; yet another had her left eyebrow raised in exasperation. I gazed on, appreciating the quirks of my friends. I thought about how they left a huge impact, even though some didn’t talk much to me. This is the funny quality of youth. Drama...

The Legend of Memories

I went somewhere. The place filled with old memories of boyhood. And there I saw, from the third person’s view, of my replay of reminiscences. Though I cannot turn time, the tingly feeling of nostalgia affirms that what has happened really happened. I am so afraid of forgetting this feeling. Memories without feeling are like legends; things that may have happened but quite unbelievable. The new year approaches and I’m starting to look back. The past has given me strength and in return I have sacrificed my naiveness. In this life of impermanence, let us live more. Wishing everyone a Happy New Year. Logen