The memory of a dream.

All we know is who we are now.

We cannot remember where we came from, or who we were before.

Now we must leave and return to the hell worse than here, from where we once so desperately escaped.

In the clarity of waking, only fragments of understanding remain.

Faces change, sequence of events blur.

Memories of people, places and emotion, as real as a lifetime, gone forever.

Through out withering memories, we remember only our creator.

Her last wish was to share with you the recipe of paradise.

Ink and water with a sprinkle of salt for crystallisation.