cellar door

there was a word for it. acception? I don't know.

and I don't know who I am.

I can't find my ability to love someone.

"what’s that?" 

"I told him about endless flower once, remember?" 

"yes, another [I fucked it all up] of yours. externals again."

"I brought a flower."

"looks more like a broken puzzle." 

"yes, but that’s all I have here. I can compile a picture, even if it will be imperfect. I want to save it, now it’s an abandoned, lonely thing."

"where’s the source?" 

"source has vanished in time." 

"you brought here something covered in time?" 

"no. It’s just a consequence of an interruption, the thing is stopped. I want to keep it." 

>>>

"he is always like this! he is a scavenger! his sister, then boots, even the box from the dead - all indiscriminately. now - this! what’s this?" 

I can't keep anything even it seems valuable. things just go away and that's it. important things I once held in my arms - went away. it's all about material ones though.