The old days(tm), old ways(tm).

.
.
Can't always identify what... brings things around.  Thoughts, memories, as I relax or work or even sleep.  Like a spark hitting a neuron, then an explosion of memories, passions, thoughts implode upon my consciousness.  I can almost step through that door to back then.  Or, perhaps, I do.  Sometimes for the good, sometimes for the ill, sometimes it must be forced aside if possible.


Fond memories, this time.  Just... notions.  Youth is what it is.

Civet?  Without a doubt.

Just another side of life.  Fun, at the time, but ultimately empty.


Oh, yeah.  Flicker and crackle.

[lyrics(and translation)] - yeah... the translations are what they are... they don't can't the spirit of these things, and it can be difficult, so... grain of salt on those... uhrm, use your imagination a bit...  but, hey, it was free and may help some of you...

Some things change, some things can't change.  Even so, nothing is as a light switch.  One supercomputer switch among millions, or billions, or more, doesn't even do the notion justice.  More, perhaps, the atomic level goings on of a mountain?  Yes, perhaps.  Will merely plays one part of it.  If it can be a profound part.

Fond memories, even if unenlightened.  Perhaps that is why youth is gifted to us?  Ah, but in our age, it may return.  A blessed curse or a cursed blessing?  I'll enjoy what there is to enjoy of it, encourage it, if in all things balance.  Wee!  *smile*

Oh, and...