When the moon passed by the open window,
the light poured in opening my eyes,
illuminating the curtain hanging in the room.
Bits of torn lace,
Scattered threads, like misplaced memories without knots,
Tattered feelings, forgotten, mostly unkept.
The curtain hadn’t changed…
in that dark night
everything became crystal clear.
Photo: Morceaux of fabric that told me a lifetime story in a glance.
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