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Journey to mother’s land,
an internal journey,
a journey from me to myself ,
A journey to the place i have left all my laughters and all my memories in.
I’m travelling in time.
My memories live in a house my mother grew up in !
My umbilical cord has never been cut off from my mother, nor did hers from her mother, and neither did her mother’s from her mother.
where are memories rooted ?!
I wasn’t raised in this house, my memories were.
This is my hometown. A place far, far away. A place where people have no memories to tell ! A forgotten place! A place where it’s memories have been buried deep in an alley.
Our wings, the children of that time who used to be full of joy playing in the gardens of this land, have been broken.
We, suspended somewhere in between childhood and being middle-aged, lost in some blurred memories, are looking for the lost times !
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