There is a place not far from here, a tiny spot of space where people like to go to forget. It’s always quite busy, as there are many with much to forget. Sometimes you have to wait for days before you get a turn but people don’t seem to mind because the wait gives them time to collect their memories.
You can see them as they stare ahead, their eyes open to their past, trying to recall each moment so they can let go of it once and for all. As their turn approaches, they seem more desperate to remember and so they spend more time away, in their past. They seem to get heavier as they get closer to their turn, as if the weight of their memories is becoming unbearable. Sometimes they cry.
When their turn is up, they step on the spot and close their eyes. For that one instance, they are blinded to their past, they have no memory of who they were or how or why, they only know to be. And then, the moment is over. They open their eyes and always look surprised to be there. Then they simply walk away. They never look back at the long line of people waiting behind them for their turn to forget.
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