Where do we hide the memories of a faded love? Is it in the hallways of our mind where a thousand others occupied a place unrecalled, neglected and buried? Is it in the alleys and corridors of time that won’t resurrect itself even as it echoes from miles away calling out our name day by day but muffled by distance? Is it in the hollowed body, calloused by pain, Embittered by redundant agonies of loosing but hopeful enough to keep on trying time and again? Is it in a painted wall where thousand of colors resides dispersing and redecorating itself to pursue a life that’s particularly aimless and unmindful of its inhabitants? Is it in a cracked vase or in an ancient urn for the remnants where the withered flower and the ashen bones are kept, a reliquary for the parted, unremembered by the livings? Or is it in the potted rose that blooms only by seasons tired of waiting for the rain, wilting in the flame of the sun blown by the wind, stiffened by the soil and un-scenting in time Or is it in our hearts pulsing effervescently and eternal maybe in our breath, perpetually waiting for a final rest for it to pale away as sure as the inevitable death… But when?