They'd wrap me up in their embroideries.
And I, would sit back and sink simultaneously.
Rarely would my spirit be released in joyfulness,
for I'd be in an extreme state of longing.
Nostalgia, they call it.
You want to be there again, but you don't want to anyway.
What is in a memory?
It gave you happiness and sadness;
it gave you feelings you'd never trade off.
All those crazy shit and people?
Yeah, I miss them.
