Sometimes, when we think we have finally laid the past to rest, old memories crash upon us, as an unexpected comet or an ancient perfume we smell decades later, revolving our universes, once more.
This morning, accidentally going through my "log", I found a lonely phrase, scribbled by someone I once loved, on the back of a paper: "no, Kolobok is fully round". And it disturbed me so much, I felt the living need to save Kolobok -our Kolobok- in the place I know he will be kept safe: here.
Reasons are many, beauty of some moments could fill a whole life in prison, and the sweetness of the first smile is something one can never forget: shame we must, merciless and surgically, freeze-frame the best memories, in order for them never to whither and die, sadly, in the unshed tears of routine.
Best, Matrioshka Maiá, wherever you are: today, years later, I remembered you.
L.
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