A mystery woven into the fabric of memories and unfurled as experiences like the strangers that appear in the background of old photographs. Sleeping with the windows open and listening to the wind chimes dance in the night air. The thunder rolls, the crickets cry and somewhere in the darkness an owl keeps watch. All that’s left are words to drown in. If I had to, that’s how I’d describe you. So don’t look at me like I have the answers. Because when the world walks out, you are the map and I keep getting lost on purpose.