The port and other things

In moments, the present fades away, disappearing into the background, and the past, with all its contents, takes over, so I watch a documentary film brimming with images, movement, and the pulse of life.

There are many reasons that motivate and summon it to overwhelm me and transport me from the present world in which I live, to a distant past to relive it, and see it clearly; I live its details, and move between its different scenes... a past that is not all beautiful, some of it renews the sorrows. I try hard to ignore it, and to transcend its reality and events. I may succeed, but its repercussions remain flowing in all the cells of my thinking, so at that time sadness descends upon me, and I am overcome by distress.

Is it nostalgia that compels me to return to those chapters of my life? Perhaps I linger at some of them, for though they were fleeting moments, they are radiant and clear, while others are dull and fail to capture my attention, so I move on.