Reminds me of the moments I walk on the street as many thoughts are racing through my mind. I observe, I feel, I listen to the sounds of the street. And I dive in.

When I was a little kid, my mom was telling me the story of the easter elf that was bringing easter eggs in the night. I remember the warm soup in a grey bowl of terracotta or porcelain I can’t remember. I was following her when I found this massive easter egg of chocolate. I can’t remember the surprise. But I remember my thoughts that were telling that I would never have forgotten that memory.

When going around, thoughts sparks in my mind. And become truthful voices from the past, thoughts have sound and space and I love them

I’m 13 again and this is my secret diary. My best friend. The only one who knows everything.