Tuesday, August 14, 2001
I meant to burn him into memory like I had so many times before with other, less-vivid events so that when I left, he would still be here in my hands. The smell of his hair, his skin under my palm, his breath on my neck, the rasp of his voice, the sun through his morning beard, the crease of his eyes when he smiled. Experience melted down to a list of images, smells, and sounds. Simplification does memory no justice and even if it did, ultimately, memory will always fail. It always fades. Everything fades.
Portal
Et Cetera
// Rolling list of recently browsed.
- » Build A Home Network From Scratch
- » 10 Appalling Lies We Were Told About Iraq - (Only 10?)
- » Google = God
- » Antique Sex Change
- » Homos and Morality
- » DNA tests confirm remains as those of Canny Ong
- » Not Gay Pride Month?
- » Hummina Hummina Hummina
- » Party of Five - 1, 2, 3, 4 and 5.
- » Funniest Goddamned Commercial I?ve Ever Seen - (MPG video)
