Journal Entry

We can speculate that each individual carries a soul. The theme is repeated in various religions, old and new. I feel as though my own individual experiences have embraced this way of thinking. A stranger out of touch with the place where we began. A bright momentum that illuminates through a barricaded mind, because it is likely we would break. We are fragile, fabricated myths.
I am exploring a warm and familiar taste of nostalgia that sickens the organs. Can we say for certain that the sensitivity of touching can shatter the nerves embedded in our skins?
It can be effortless to imagine, to pretend, and to seek the natural contrast that is littered and dulled from pollution of past. It bends and manipulates the very death of the spectators. All the while time expands and catches as we touch one another. Each day holds itself up in a non existential timeline, because we have met before, and will certainly meet again.