I set my face toward the sun again, and I think about my old lifethe one I feel as though Ive abandoned somehow. It hurts to think of it that way. And even though I know it wasnt perfect, I look back now, and all I see is perfection. Every soft whisper, every spoken word, every gentle touchits all perfect. Time wont let me see it otherwise. Theyre all just perfect memoriesperfect, untouchable moments that came and went so softly that they almost feel as if they were always just a dream.
