I keep gathering all of these little pieces of them. Glimpses that meant something to me. I've trapped them in shiny transparent bubbles, tinkering with them, juggling, arranging them in such a way. I take one from you, and another from him, and assemble this sort of collage of memories. Captured in my pockets - warm, cozy, complete. I have a hard time finding new ones to put in there, so I recycle the old ones over and over again instead. Adding pieces to them, like a quilt. Taking scraps and stitching them together with slinky red thread. Weaving and polishing and coveting each one. I don't know how to make new ones anymore. I simply don't know how... the old ones are just so good. Familiar. Comfortable. Special. Soft. Hazy. Dreamy. Lovely.