A single matchstick burning in the darkness. The way tall weeds blow in the wind. The smell of fresh rain on a tar road. The sound of electric trains as they pull into a staion. The air conditioning inside a long-distance bus ride. The confines of one little darkroom. The forgotten train ticket I used as a bookmark. When Bon Jovi plays on the radio. Every single Mini Minor I see on the road. Every Terry Pratchett book. When I spot a rolled up tshirt sleeve. When I see black oil under my fingertips. When I close my eyes and hear the rain falling.
I don't know how to forget you.