To a night that meant more than three months
“May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness. I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you’re wonderful, and don’t forget to make some art - write or draw or build or sing or live as only you can. And I hope, somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself.”
A lot of things happened this year - most of them unexpected, some of them very longed for, others undesired. It has been an eventful 365 days and they leave a bittersweet aftertaste, even though I can already feel the events sorting themselves in the memories department, slowly leaving the present tense. Some of them still feel very fresh, so it's kind of strange to realize they happened nearly two months ago. In a way, I'm scared of them fading away - I know it's no good to cling to the past, but I want to remember. I want to still be able to trace every curve, every breath, every image in my head. I know though, that what I need is some new canvas to paint the scene all over again.
I need to move on.
To 2012. And for the years to come.