Sometimes I forget it, the place I dwelled for so long, and then there is a piece of music, or prose from a newly discovered author. I think long ago I had heard of Marcel Proust, but it was during a time I did not understand nor could I see. I could only feel the forgotten memories that were hidden under a thousand layers of time and I only felt them when I came across vessels that also remembered and engraved them within sound and page.
Those marks on the soul