Here, in this moment

I approach nostalgia like dark earthy bogs.

I imagine there are hands in there that will pull me in.

Muddy my world.

Make it impossible for me to breathe or see the light that I cling to almost desperately.

I love crisp new horror movies, brilliant new adventure movies, lovely new cartoons.

I love rearranging my apartment into new configurations because new speaks of hope to me.

As long as things keep moving there is less chance of them settling into dark, or sad, or bad.

When I do slip down Memory Lane I am ever watchful for the darkness that creeps up through the petal strewn gardens of the past.