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white nights.

No, wait, let me explain. You might have got it wrong.
These people appear to me during my night walks.
When I’m roaming the streets, with no direction, letting it go, no purpose whatsoever. And these are people I used to know, loose friends, acquaintances of sorts, people I knew from work, people who small-talked to me, a weird bunch, if ever there was one. The one thing common to them was that they talked to me.
They addressed me in conversation.
They did bother to engage with me.
For some reason they thought it made sense, talking to me.
And I see them as they are saying things to me. Only thing is, I no longer remember their names.
I’m drawing a blank.
Their faces I know. Names — no clue. Do you exist without your name?
I want to stick a name on you.
Are you haunting me or am I a memory you’d never like to have again? But you all say things that do make sense.
Disturbing but meaningful.
You guys are smart, you carry on and envelope me. I’m lost in you all, and that’s what you wish for.

tibor

Enthusiastic photographer. Loves stories too.