Remembering who we are

It is just memory that we need sometimes. It is certain that we should not live in the past, but the past is the memory of the future. The memory of the past helps us to remember little details. Past details that belong to the future.  Tell me, have you ever thought of the past ?  Are you interested in my thinking of the past   ..... (Silence) Yes, I am. Very much so, indeed.  And, what do you think?  Sometimes I think about when I was nothing. We were dust that belonged to the future. And you? Do you think about the past? I have never had such an idea in mind. I don't even know what the past is.  If it had not been for that danaus chrysippus, you would be still thinking of the past.  How do you know it? It was so beautiful and colourful, but ephemeral.  I knew that you would remember it! I knew it! There were a lot of letters, numbers, loads of laughs full of innocence. The light, was entering through the windows, we ran desperat...

Algunas veces sólo necesitas memoria. Es cierto que dicen que no se debe vivir en el pasado, pero su recuerdo es el futuro. La memoria del pasado ayuda a recordar pequeños detalles con los que entender cosas, cosas pasadas que pertenecen al futuro. - Dime, ¿has pensado alguna vez en el pasado? - ¿Te interesa si pienso en el pasado? - Silencio. - Pues si. Lo hago a menudo. - Y, ¿qué piensas? - En cuando no era nada. Éramos el polvo del futuro. Y tu, ¿piensas en el pasado? - Nunca he tenido esa idea en la cabeza. Ni siquiera sé lo que es el pasado. - Si no hubiese sido por esa danaus chrysippus aún estarías pensando en el pasado. - ¿Cómo lo sabes? Era tan bonita, colorida y efímera. - ¡Ves como te acuerdas!. Había tantas letras, tantos números, decenas de risas llenas de inocencia. La luz, entraba por las ventanas, corríamos desesperadamente, había una torre. Exacto, ¡una torre! Tú levantabas tu mano, y yo... yo vivía. ¿Te acuerdas, verdad? Y luego el caracol segu...

He looked at her, she was staring at him for a minute or so and then it stopped, he smiled.  It had been happening for three days in a row. Then it stopped again.  They could perfectly understand each other. His eyes were full of passion, hers were more kind of doubtful.  She read his mind. He read hers. There was a bunch of emerging emotions which had been inside both of them for a while. They blew up as it was expected.  He took her hand, assertively. Her eyes hold a bright shadow between her eyebrows and cheeks, and there was a peaceful expression upon her face. There was a transparent light between them. It linked them both in such a reciprocal manner that a burning desire of kissing emerged.  Then, a mark on his heart, like an ever fixed stain, appeared in the middle of his chest as if his emotions were going to be released. However, they were not. He kept the truth inside his heart and told it with his eyes.  They never let go ...