it's just something. something about old pictures, something about the way the streets look different and the way those wrinkles on your face now aren't alive yet just waiting to be born,
the way the hues of the image before me are washed out but still shine with the memories you infused into every droplet of ink printed onto the page.
mother and daughter crouched onto the broken cobbled stones.
frilly summer dresses and messy hair for you and for your mother, timeless elegance.
the narrowed streets swallowing you, bring you closer, but closer to what?
the  faded corner shop with the grumbling old man resided in the small city streets.
take a look around, do you remember? tell me about why you took this? when you took this? how did it feel taking this? what had happened before you took this picture?
the small limbed entity crouched cheekily next to her mother, oh i look at you and wonder just how fast time goes.
the time ticks on and so does my heart, that's a second gone, now a minute, suddenly an hour. wait how did 14 years go by.

they trigger something inside of me