I can hardly remember anymore. The imprint of your heavy step has vanished, crushed under the weight of the years that have passed since then, over us.

Thus begins the story of every memory that fades under the weight of time. At first, everything is clear: the sound of laughter, the smell of a summer day, that look you could recognize out of a thousand. But the years pass, and slowly, the outlines blur, like an old drawing erased by the touch of time.

We tell ourselves we will never forget. That some people, some moments, are forever etched in our soul. And yet, there comes a day when you try to recall a voice and realize it’s only a vague shadow, a faint echo that gets lost in the noise of the present.

So, what remains of the steps that once walked paths alongside ours? Sometimes, just the feeling of absence. Other times, an old photograph found by chance, a letter from the past, or the scent of a memory that hits you unexpectedly, like a gust of wind on a quiet day.

But maybe forgetting isn’t an enemy, but a form of liberation. Maybe we forget what we must leave behind to make room for the present. And yet, there are those moments, those people we don’t want to lose, even though time blurs them.

So we wonder: how do we keep the memory alive? Maybe through words, through a journal hastily written on an evening of nostalgia. Maybe through a song that takes us back, for a few minutes, to a world that no longer exists. Perhaps just through a sigh and a thought: It was beautiful. And as long as we remember, even just a fragment, a small detail, nothing is truly lost.

Time erases the traces, but the soul constantly rewrites them, in its quiet and unseen way.