100 words: may 14th.
Every time I am here I feel like I've come back to something that I've forgotten, something that I've left alone for a very long time. The lights and the crowds are ghosts out of an old memory; it is so strange to see them again - a sea of silent noise and faces that changes and changes to hide you away from my sight. This place should not be here, should not exist; it should have died a long time ago, together with the lonely days that we spent with one another. It should have burned out with our fire.