There were those fleeting moments of pure light, unfiltered by negative thoughts.


They are rare.


They rarely come even if chased down the narrow alley.


How I wish those moments can be frozen.


For they are liquid,


slipping out of my hands when I try to hold them.


Yes, I want to freeze them like a fraction of time captured in a photograph.


So I can have something solid to linger my touch on


when everything disintegrates into smoke,


dimming the morning sun.