Open the drawer, the drawer, as we often do. Absentmindedly. Look at him: one day you decide to fix it.
" I'm sorry mom, I did not mean to hurt you, I did not want to make you cry, but tonight I'm rearranging my closet. "
Far order between all those things, those fragments of life, thrown there by accident or carefully preserved ... dusty objects and thoughts, which sometimes re-emerge to memory. There is the good side of life there, or the part that you have never lived or did you do it as if it were in a dream ... and those marks you left on purpose to remind you, in moments of doubt, that was all true. Although sometimes it was better the other way.
Some of those things you bring in even if I had not preserved, while others at times even more because you know they're there. But most of the things you put in the drawer are there for a reason: waiting for their moment.
And that time is not always in the future.
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Everybody Loves Hypnotoad 2.0
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