A strange creature.

Once upon a time there was a man(creature) that would sit well on its chair and observe the world with eyes fill up with nostalgia. And it could do that for hours, days, months. Time is not important. Maybe it is, the only thing for sure it is that, that creature had been trapped somehow in an awkward space in between time and the result was that. It would sit down there and observe the world with its eyes full with melancholy. But it was not unhappy. Don't you ever think it was unhappy. It was rather happy and satisfied sitting there and looking back at all those memories and filled its eyes with this melancholic shining. It would look back and smile silently and enjoy thinking of all of the details that would arise in its mind. Back in time could be just yesterday it doesn't matter. For it, if it's not now, it's already in the past, even if it was five minutes ago, it could be material to feel nostalgic about. Sometimes the memories could come themselves, as smells or visions, or voices. Sometimes it was a familiar voice have said something to it. It wasn't something significant. It was just in the past. And for this, it could be something it could feel nostalgic about. It would repeat that voice, that saying, that phrase, as many times as it could echo in its mind. In its space. So many times, sometimes broken, it doesn't matter. It would do that. Sometimes it would recall other memories, either voice or smell, or touch. That feeling... A warm blanket on its belly.. The feeling of woollen fabrics and knitwear or silk. The smell of wood. Fresh cut wood in the forest. The smell of smoke. these grey moving shades changing places as the air likes. Walking down the streets in the neighbourhood, buildings from the 70's, someone is cooking, smell of roses, a woman dressed in black with high heels just passed. Heavy notes of cherries and other essences it couldn't tell, only Jean-Baptiste Grenouille could tell apart all of these senses.

Blue. Crystal blue. Clear reflections, on the water. Behind the curtains. Old white curtains and a light breeze dancing around together. Green. Dark green fern, walking in the grass barefoot. Green coloured markers. Carioca. Pink, crimson, petrol and other.

This creature was trapped somewhere in between, but it didn't feel trapped at all. It would just sit there and smile nostalgically and all those images would just come and embrace its eyes with a warm caress. So nicely.