They say we dream in black and white.
Is this too the way we remember it?

Time. Space. Identities.—Distorted realities within themselves.

Substance and meaning rely solely on one’s translation—
Experience and memory serve as translators.

Understanding is only but so important.
Impermanence echoes this sentiment.
My emotional chauffeur drives on.

A new reality is formed from this meaning found from within.

I can remember it more clearly this way—and I find I am more fond of this new translation.

Telescopes to the invisible.
Bottled up.

…Release…

The fleeting nature of their forms.

This is the substance of existence.