i like keys, and keychains.

As many as possible.

And for a weird reason.

Our mind is like a big hall with doors after doors to rooms of memories.

Some doors are huge. Some doors are tiny. Some squares. Some round. Some invisible.

And what I have with me are keychains and keys to these doors (or not; possibly drawers as well). I cannot remember the exact keys to the exact doors, drawers or locks.

But with each passing day, comes a a new key for a new door. And I feel the increasing weight of the metals in my pocket.

It is a solid immediate sense of the keys brushing against my flesh.

And somehow, I will know when I misplace a key. And this is what I am feeling right now. Both the feeling that I have already misplaced a key; and the premonition that I will misplace a key.

Away from Her was depressing.
It made me think of the possibility that the person you love could forget about you.

I feel as if we are all suffering from Alzheimer's Disease. Ours is a slower process than the actual disease. I mean it metaphorically.

I think I am getting closer.

slowly.

tonight it was your turn to die.