What is life, if not an abundant collection of memories and moments?
Some memories might be happy, or some might be sad, some could apparently be utterly insignificant, or some might change the course of life forever.
We are in permanent conflict with ourselves: longing to predict the future and allowing the past to seize our mind and soul, we oftentimes miss the present.
Our existence revolves precisely around the futile endeavor to control the events and the insatiable desire for predictability.
In the end, you acknowledge they are only false illusions.
Yet, there is one certainty: death.
And as that moment comes, you ask yourself: what have I left behind?
With a bewildering velocity, your memories flow like millions of droplets in a waterfall. And all you can do is to let yourself be carried away by the river.
JE LEEST
The shape of memories (Severus Snape x OC)
RomantiekWhat if there was a side story of Severus Snape? A bitter love story?
