"Memory is a tenuous thing. . . .
flickering glimpses, blue
and white, like ancient,
decomposing 16mm film.
Happiness escapes
me there, where faces
are vague and yesterday
seems to come tied
up in ribbons of pain.
Happiness? I look for it intead
in today, where memory
is something I can still
touch, still rely on.
I find it in the smiles
of new friends, the hope
blossoming inside.
My happiest memories
have no place in the
past; they are those
I have yet to create."
— Ellen Hopkins (Impulse (Impulse, #1))
flickering glimpses, blue
and white, like ancient,
decomposing 16mm film.
Happiness escapes
me there, where faces
are vague and yesterday
seems to come tied
up in ribbons of pain.
Happiness? I look for it intead
in today, where memory
is something I can still
touch, still rely on.
I find it in the smiles
of new friends, the hope
blossoming inside.
My happiest memories
have no place in the
past; they are those
I have yet to create."
— Ellen Hopkins (Impulse (Impulse, #1))
No comments:
Post a Comment