Eternity

Sometimes I can feel the memories of my past. I can actually smell, taste and feel them inside. And I wonder what happened to some of all the dreams?
Sitting in an attic, emancipated and literary, the floor littered with books by Kafka, Dostojevski, Anaïs Nin, Hemingway...All of us young and dressed in black, drinking wine and smoking exotic cigarettes in the cold, huddled around a heater...The evening spent at the intellectual hang-out of the time, the night given over to heated discussions and love-making. A sort of romancing of a time already past. Youthful excuberance solving the political problems of the day....vibrant...and naïve.

Basically the feeling of constant beginnings and never any endings. Everything NOW, NOW, NOW!!! Beauty, passion, dreams, belief. And most of all; the possibilities past any boundaries. I am still that girl. No longer so naïve, the beginnings have turned to the middle part...the part before the end. But there is no difference in my excuberance; my tears burn as hot as then, my passions as strong. And my belief in possibilities past any boundaries have remained as strong and stronger through all the disapointments and triumphs of life. My body might age, but my soul has hardly drawn its first breaths.