Lullaby.Mature

Prologue

The days that seem to linger in our minds are always the blurry ones. The days with a beginning; a middle and an end, though not necessarily in that order. Such days could be of elation or intense sorrow. Either way, they hold a special place in the mind; the body and the soul.

In my opinion, it is simply human nature to have one or two of these days locked up somewhere. I know people who have a silk-lined, pine box kept on the highest shelf in their bedroom, decorated with intricate patterns of roses and thorns; sun and rain, carved into the refined wood. Others have an old cardboard box that was saved from moving day, carefully shoved into the farthest corner of the dusty attic. Me; I have a regularly sized black and white notebook, sitting amongst other regularly sized multi-coloured notebooks, on the middle shelf in my bedroom.

Everybody has a special place filled with innumerable days that the mind’s eye saw through an unfocused lens.

And you’ve just opened the door to mine.

The End

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