It happens. There are things we remember exactly when we are not supposed to remember them- no matter how carefully we guard them all the time, no matter what precautions we take, no matter how many mothballs we hide in each layer of our anecdotes to preserve them. There will be a thin light through the cracks of the mind, or that’s what I heard. There will always be a memory enveloped in a beaming present.
Today I got caught in the traffic jam, sitting in this yellow and black cab for hours; around me there were streetlights, a thousand of standstill cars honking at each other as if the world was going to end right there and it was their last chance to play with the motor horns. The rain left an unusual smell on the dry earth, as if it wanted to leave its mark before signing off.
Sometimes a new smell reminds me of an old moment, like you knew this very moment happened years ago and the world is rewinding its small black machine to take you there. A decade ago on this day, in this mad city of car horns, traffic jam and memories, I lost my way and got stuck on road for hours. It rained that evening too after a long break. I love when the rain suddenly appears, not following the calculated weather forecast. I love when nature breaks rules and surprises me.
A feeling of déjà vu, but how it makes joke on my present, how it wipes those little droplets on the car window and reflects my teary eyes. I am not lost anymore. I know now how a decade strengthens a mind.