Forgetful

I remember now. The times when I younger when I saw this photo by Hideaki Hamada. I remember how time stood still while flying, the dreams and day and day dream. I was hungry and I ate and I am happy until I am hungry but I ate again. There is always food, like how there is always love. Mummy is always at home and papa definitely comes home. Evening. Bicycle. Do you feel like dreaming again, or was it a dream? It was a memory, no it was real, but it passed, but it still lives. We are all still around. We love life to be still but it grows. Why. Because it is not yet the end. When will be the end. There is no end. We grow we transit, we climb like the boy up the stair in a bloody hot sun, or we lie down and imagined and lay our arm across our face, our close eyes, or was it opened? I can't remember. I only remember, it was a warm beautiful hot sun.