Literary escapades

If time could stay still in the moments that we adore, keep rerunning in our memories, longing to live them again and again, meticulously recalling all the little details, sounds and shades and spoken words that seem to matter more than they did then, like an old movie that after all these years you know by heart. Time is running away with increasing pace that we are too powerless to slow down. The persistent feeling of speeding away towards the edge of a cliff exhilarates and mortifies, all in one, filling this seemingly auspicious ride with fascination and terror playing in turns with your mind, juggling unrelated pieces of life that go up and down in the air like a flash, burning into your brain, stirring myriad of emotions that won't like to be forgotten. The sweetness and the pain of a moment disappearing in front of your eyes with the vague premonition of a future regret. The lights are descending into shadows, and slowly melting evening sun is touching the day for the la

Things are happening too fast and it's still too early to understand why they're happening at all. With such unusual start suddenly bursting into your life showing its corners in a completely new light. So vivid and unexpected, vaguely familiar and yet strangely peculiar, fresh and edgy, touching and sad, gripping all your being with such a powerful force and yet giving you freedom to decide if you wish to continue with this wonderfully crazy charade that excites even more with every coming day. Time is arching itself trying to accommodate the change. Every step is a novelty with the windows opening to another reality

You never know where grains of pain may hide one day to come to life with the exquisite torture from the shadows in infinite surprise to startle and ambush the fortress left with no defense

I am letting my little obsession glide me through the day. Sometimes I feel I am playing with it like a cat with a mouse, catch and release. I am giving it green light to entertain me. I am controlling the game (or so it seems.) I could direct my attention somewhere else but what would I do without the butterflies inside me, the ticklish feeling of curious fascination and slow enjoyment. At first it was unexpected and slightly bewildering, coming from seemingly familiar place but so sudden in its new angle that led straight into 'Alice in Wonderland' rabbit hole. And here I am, weeks from then, still on the other side exploring the unknown, moving back and forth in time just to find something new every day. I got used to the butterflies. I'm familiar with their comings and goings. The images have sharpened, feelings acquired new facets, senses are heightened to the breaking point. Joy ride indeed with a little sadness of inevitable expiration. There must be some meaning