July 25th

I was presently looking out the window while sitting on the train. Rolling through the tuscan hills, my eyes were lit by bright boxy houses each with it’s own field of green, a lush mountainous backdrop behind it all, and limitless blue skies that spoke of languorous days lasting an eternity.

But what struck me as we sidled by a lane of trees, all a dark blur to the unfocused stare I was giving the window, what struck me was that even by gazing out the window upon a view so awe-inspiring, I could see a ghost-like reflection of the window behind me.

It struck me that oftentimes while going into the world that lays ahead of us, there is still this unrelenting reflection of what we carry from the past.

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