This morning I was drawn from my day-dreaming by the touch of a sweet breeze. Bread freshly taken out of the oven. It reminded me of the smell in my grandparents' yard. Of that done crusty bread, which I still prefer. Grandma trying to keep us from tearing into the hot loaves of bread. Us, smiling and conniving to disrupt grandma's attention. I smile and I wish for that smile and this smile to be connected by a bridge, like an arch over time.
Yes, actually, immortality is gained through memories.
A breeze of freshly bloomed freesia takes me back here, in the present.