Cumulus / Memory

It pulls me somewhere far away - to where the air smells of sun and dust, and thoughts finally stop arguing with each other. Sounds flow like someone is slowly stirring a summer evening with a spoon in a glass, and fragments of memories surface: old sneakers, unsent messages, laughter that now only echoes in your head. Everything seems tangled - there's no meaning, but there's a feeling of movement, almost healing. It's as if a heart, tired of philosophy, decided to just dance - unevenly, stumbling, but alive.