We have come across them. Words, images and visions. We have formed opinion about them. And have destroyed them.
We have changed them. We have changed.
Within this circular interaction of ours with our reflections, there are brief mossy plains in time, where we sit down and may be for the inquisitives of the future, scribble our presence.
And I have seen scraps flying with the wind to unforeseen oblivion.
Anything we have read, observed or experienced; here is a library of misplaced thoughts.
Review recess, would you call it? So be it.