The sun hides behind drifting clouds, appearing every so often as a wink or a nod, and I walk down my street watching time pass. A chimney stands alone among so many trees. The factory once stood here, except for the chimney, it’s burnt foundation is all that remains. I walk slowly by the reminders of time moving so swiftly forward.
As I walk I take a photograph with the cheap camera I bought to capture moments. Moments, segments of time, gone in an instant like the moment in a photograph are but things of memory. And time passes.
I walk alone along a street I have walked so often. My photograph in hand. I recall these places of long ago. The chimney gone. The trees replaced by a vacant building. I walk down this street to the house I once knew as home. It is the only thing on this street that has remained the same.
I walk down this street that I once walked so often, but now I walk this last time remembering the things lost to time. I recall those days ago. I was so much younger then. Now, I walk alone this street that has so much meaning to me but to all others it is merely a street.
On the ground I toss the photograph. I see myself in that photograph on the ground. A younger me looking up at the bitter me. Bitter after so much time. Alone with only my prayers. Silent at night as I look up for a reply. Now, I walk away, from the photograph and the memories contained within.