Past events take up space within us like souvenirs. Holding our experiences close to us, even if we would rather let them go. The semblance of control over the mind is a thief in itself.

These ephemeral objects stay suspended within, no longer of any use. But somehow, they never truly leave. I secure my bike, just as I grasp to my wits, yet come back to find nothing but the lock. When your physical belongings are stolen, the hole that’s left is tangible. 

But what is taken away that we cannot see?