Singing along

Melodies, playing backwards while you keep on moving forward. It’s strange, but this is the way it sometimes goes. As the most recent memories sink in and fade beyond the horizon, residual feelings lick the borders of my mind’s eye and bring throw-away bottles with them.
The past.
Each one seems to come from farther away. Their fragrance remains in the air for some time, and then it’s gone.
And an older one slips through.
And backwards the record goes, until it ends.

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