For one brief, fleeting moment it was 1995 again. The cushion and hush of fresh snowfall while everyone sleeps, like a time machine instantly transporting me to where I always most want to be. A light twinkly sprinkle trickling gently down onto my shoulders as I admire the cushioned silence. Tonight feels so incredibly much like then. 30 long, long years ago. Fuck. THIRTY YEARS. Late winter nights hanging out with friends, after the bar, walking down the street when things were simple and right and normal. I would do anything to go back. Anyone who occupied that time would want to go back. But maybe instead of yearning to go backwards, we can all of us, all at once, with all of our might, lurch forward so fast that we simply go back around again and end up right where we started.
