and now with my cloud head i deleted all the pictures from the old computer and cried. i wish i had not done that, but they're lost now, in my cloud head, in the clouds, cloud hidden, whereabouts unknown. we had the time, we're composed of memories, even those we might delete. we're also composed of what is lost. memory changes with time, even the pictures of memory change.
i still have so many. one was called some cry wolf, and the other was called sometimes when i see you i smile and then i want to cry.