Another late night, another train ride. Coming back to The City from my aunt’s birthday dinner. Glad I made it. Last one in that apartment, before my cousin moves to Texas. The only constant is change. Either be an agent of change, or get lost in the past.
Walked down 20th Avenue, deeply lost in sentimental thought, passed by my grandparent’s old apartment.
The past does not exist. Don’t let it hurt you. Carry the memories you hold dear, so long as the longing for them doesn’t start to enslave you. Nostalgia is a cruel mistress.