Author: Alina H. Hansen Writer & Poet

Distant echoes, remind the horizon of atomic blasts decades ago. The air, everything, changed forever. Date, dated, dating past, present, future, meticulously counted.

Mind and memory, can I forget myself in the smoke, a thought bends like light through a prism, no matter what way it turns it’s always different, my memory filtering through, grasping to keep my self separate from my dreams. Lost.

Snow packed, dreams drifting. I opened the package, the tape stuck to my fingers, the debris of plastic bubbles and cardboard within cardboard. Unwrap, unpack, inside, something I knew was going to arrive.