Wow! I'm not even a spectator to my past. There's a sinking feeling, an emptiness. What must it be like there? What is the narrative of today?
What an irony! I'm the confused protagonist of this tale. There's heartbreak, trust, anger, love, passion all rolled into a single piece of paper and now rising up in flames. Is this really the end? Or the beginning? Both? The possibility seems remote. The past is etched into our minds and time tries its best to cover it with its sand and melt the edges with its heat but the past remains. It stays there to remind us of a life that we have lived.