The Port and Other Stories

Sometimes, I find the present fading into background noise. The past, with its rich memories, takes over, and I find myself watching a documentary, full of images, movement, and the pulse of life. Certain stimuli invade me, transporting me from my present to a distant past, which I see and experience in detail, even moving between its various scenes. But these scenes and details aren't always enjoyable. Some still evoke sadness, and these are the scenes whose existence I try hard to forget. Although I may sometimes succeed, their effects linger in every cell of my body, leaving me drowning in pain and anxiety. Is it my nostalgia for the past that always brings me back to these "stations" in my life? Some stations of my journey are so blurry that they don't attract my attention, so I quickly move past them. Others are so clear that I prefer to pause at them, press the rewind button, and then restart.