The spray of water following a car's wheels on a wet night, illuminated by street lamps and traffic lights, fairy dust trailing a horse-and-cart-carriage.
Sunrise. Warm water blurs my tears into the shower stream, cleansing and burning away the panicked emotions in my heart. And yet why do I leave the shower box feeling empty and cold? Outside the window a new day shines onwards.
Sunset. I close my eyes for a moment as I sink into your arms. The watercolour sky transformed from a multitude of blues to a darker, more sinister purple. Blue paint sinks from the sky into the water below, edging either towards or away from us -- I cannot tell which way the tide rolls in the dark.
A thunderstorm devastating my Facebook news feed. I slept through it. It is so transient that when I wake, the streets are still, silent and deceptively peaceful.
A ghostly fog as I cross the road. It seems to shimmer in one place, yet when I look again through the windscreen it is everywhere; still beautiful no doubt, but not quite as magical.
Transience is getting on a plane. One moment you're there, next moment you're gone.
...Or are you?
Though I wish I could stay in that moment forever, such want only comes from the knowledge that it is impossible. Though it lasted only seconds, minutes, hours -- such transient moments are the ones I will cherish for the rest of my life. Concentrated, pure emotions; taking in every smell, every feeling of that saturated ephemerality -- that is how I will not forget.
Those songs
Every time I hear those songs I know they can be interpreted in a thousand different ways for a thousand different people, and none of them the way the writer meant;
Yet I will choose to interpret it for you
Perchance it was inevitable
everyone has their own stories, this is ours and ours alone.
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