Stranded being alone

Enjoying lonely moments in my mind walking down my lane of New York. Music, history, individualism, older times. Repeating seemingly not changing for a long long time, yet time is moving forward.

I find my inner self coming out just thinking of these. Maybe coz of the alone days i had when i was there. Living something so never me but a piece of history i mould into reality myself for myself. unforgettable. in every way.

Stand still. Time comes to a standstill. For me to enjoy being this moment.

I think about no yesterday or tomorrow. In absence of time only i am existing in a part of time. Forgettable. In everyway.

Who am i writing this for ? Who will ever understand my feeling now. Is it replicable or is it just unique ? Perhaps this is the only way i come closest being the me i would like or dream to be but never get to be to verify my liking. Is that right ? Will you who is reading understand the meaning i mean ?

I lost feeling. Feeling that i could feel in me and in front of me when i am young. A picture and me. I see me in the picture. Perhaps i extrapolated it to reality closest now. no back then when i was still walking the streets of new york.

The world so close yet so far. So attainable yet distant. Me yet not me. There is no me. Just random persons being at different times. Unexciting on the whole, yet turbulently colourful when micro inspected.

I am thankful for memories i love and that is so close to me.