A screen is a convex mirror reflecting its owner's life back at her. And computer memory is a box filled with her little treasures. Images of the days long gone.
“I wish you could see me then, holding a giant plush cat, walking through the April evening, pink plastic glasses dangling on the collar of my T-shirt. Every window open, open into the spring sky, the warmth that came early, the promise of summer, soft glow and city noise. Fresh tiny leaves seem to hang in the air around tree branches like green mist. Upside down city reflected in a fountain trembles and disappears.
Street lamps light up as I walk through the gradient in time, a transition between day and night, dusty white and pale pink will turn deep blue as I reach home.”
