in love, in memory

Read this from somewhere and
thought it's really well written -

so i'm sharing it with you. :)

Life is an act of resistance

and of re-existence;

we live,

re-live.

But everything is held in our memory.

We are what we remember,

our memory is our nomadic home.

As the plants or the emigrant birds,

the memories have the strategy of the light.

They go forward,

like the rower who moves from behind to see better.

There is a pain similar to a toothache,

to the physical loss,

and it is to lose a memory that we love.

Those essential photos in the album of our life.

That’s why,

there is a kind of melancholy that does not catch,

but nourishes freedom.

In that melancholy

as foam on the waves,

our dreams arises.