Life would be so good if we could just freeze moments in time, the time when we were happy, when we knew we were loved. But, we can't. And so instead, we find ourselves retracing footsteps that may have washed away. We fight to remember our connections even as time wipes our slate clean. And we strive to make new connections that we hope time will indulge. When communication fails, words remain behind, proof that we were here, that we mattered, that someone cared. In the end, the past may be all we have.
Men in trees
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