Flowing through this pen in such a rhythm, I wonder how these words stay preserved on paper. For in my mind they have faded faster than they appeared, and the picture they once painted is no longer clear. The contrast of the bright oranges and reds against the faintest yellow memories has swirled into a mixture of messiness I don’t care to control. These thoughts- like dreams, for a moment feel substantial and bright, but in the same moment, they escape- and all I’m left with is the night.