I've never felt so helpless. In a hopelessly subtle manner. All of a damn sudden I miss the me that was on a coach traveling between Pamplona and Bilbao. I feel as if I had something there. An idea. A thought. A revelation. But now I am here.

I am gone.

I keep seeing those green fields and mountains pass by from outside the bus window. I keep seeing those blue skies and their clouds. I wish I was there now. I wish I had to take that bus forever.

I guess there's nothing left to do. Except for a good ten minutes trying to keep as much of these memories as close as possible.

Why is it that all we ever seem to do in our lives was to accept everything that we have lost?