redwoods.

Trees taller than apartments in every direction. i always find myself back here because no time passes. the hour didn’t go by. the Sun hasn’t quite set. i know we need to leave imminently but we never do. time here moves neither linearly nor cyclically. each moment is new but there is no endpoint. you draw out some mmeandering… trajectory… you know what i mean. look over there. there’s fiiiiive of us. us chasing each other’s tails. it’s called 꼬리잡기, did you ever play it growing up? tails become mouths and mouths eat tails and we eat each other.

or maybe you don’t because everytime i open your mouth and i see it move i see you begging for something. i can’t quite hear your voice becuase it’s too deeeeeeep so i try my best to read your lips which move so so sssluugggishlyy, must be the time. when it takes two weeks for your mouth to bbbarely budge again i faaaaall asleep. i dream of climbing trees with you.

degradation of memory is oh-so-natural, sensory details aren’t worth our brains’ time. we abstract everything into neat little things, to recall later, oh that was such a nice time. if i do want to remember everything, then who do i ask this time? i can’t promise to be more attentive this time.

during the descent i watch us from above as we wander away from each other. there’s only two directions on a road. a road is linear. a road will get you from point $A \Longleftrightarrow B$. reliably. it has a start and an end. will it get us to the sunset? is that a moment or a place? that’s what i’m thinking, anyway, watching our car lazily make its winding way along the road. is this road in time or space? it’s parallel to the sun-set. no chance of getting lost in the forest. no chance of driving off into the forever.