Love letters from Bohemia

xxiii.

On the last hours of a dying decade time is cold and still, fragile like an older self, like old letters on fading ink and falling apart on the ridges. For once in a lifetime, time is frozen between my fingers. This is the last December day, like all last December days it is about remembering, and forgiving what you remember.

Here’s hoping the next year ends just like this, with happiness crystal cold on the fingertips.