Nostalgia & The Memory Bank

First Signs of Descent and Decay

What gets me going is a smell looming in the air during the second week of September. That smell is present today. It smells like rust mixed with wet pine. Tear drops of the night fall onto the aging soil, a certain coolness that repents from the sky. My dreams suddenly turn into the same components, and I fall...into the sweetness of decay, flipping through images, trajectories, experiences and timelines that I have met with once before. It’s fast and it’s slow. It peaks and levels out into this rhythmic dawning that only I can see from this supreme height of my own being. Interestingly, I don’t have to know the calendar date, it’s a natural focal point on the wheel of the year that tells me it is time.