Saudade.

i am fond of collecting things.

i have premature nostalgia.
i have perpetual nostalgia.
i have permanent nostalgia.

they don’t get it.

you know those earworms that give you spatial spasms in the brain and linger for days on end, and how with every listen a different instrument or voice becomes clearer than crystal, and a certain magical chord appears even more wrenching and ingenious than the prior listen, and you can blast it on loop a hundred times a day and it will be a hundred different magical moments in your head?

they don’t get it. it’s a pity.

ar·ray /əˈrā/ Noun
an impressive display or range of a particular type of thing

dis·ar·ray /ˌdisəˈrā/ Noun
a state of disorganization or untidiness

you go for a walk and
cease thinking and
resist rationalising and
stop dead in your tracks and
your heart suddenly tells
you that if home is
no where, then home is
every where.

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