...Moves On

LJones - Soul Below

As summer moves onto autumn, so does the memory of good times. From that moment it moulds itself into a bizzare mix of colours and shapes that were not what once were. If only they would come back in some utopian state of bliss; an entertainment room with emotions-on-demand, a small fridge by my feet to drink away assigned the responsibilites of now. But it's only a dream, as were the memories, fading away into nothingness.