The boundaries of today's events struggle with our self and exhaust the barracks of the soul and body. The nail of life has begun to drain the station of consciousness and awareness, and the memories in our crucible no longer appear with the corridors of current places and times. Yes, we have grown older and our days grow with us, and the space for those memories diminishes or appears to us shyly, passing by like passersby, nothing more. For the memories of innocent childhood and the memories of youth have touched those white strands planted on one's head, and contended with the attempt to contain them. But alas, alas. Reality has imposed itself, and that is the end of it. The hours of the day we live have taken control of that. Reality has abandoned that former covenant and that content, leaving it behind us to be merely memories written, preserved, and immortalized in the archive of the soul and the mind. Those records have become nothing more than a reference we return to whenever resounding and fierce events occur. They serve as evidence and proof that we were one day on the land of that serene life before the hurricane of the fluctuations of times and places.
So, they are memories, nothing more and nothing less...