Brown envelops. Photos. Faces. Places. She was looking at the past of lives that had been meant to be different. Threads got carried away. From the wind of reality. From a power stronger than dreams.

***

But, there’s no power stronger that the one of the dreams. She dreams at night. She dreams at daylight. She dreams alone. She dreams with friends. She dreams with lovers. She dreams with family. We dream together, for all and for one. We live together, for all and for one.

Lives take different paths. We get distant. We get strange. We isolate in our microcosm. She comes closer. To touch the stars above her head. The sky is not her’s. But, she goes for it. She tries, to reach, to hang, to shine.

No other shine brighter than the smile. Smiles made of dreams. Shines made of wishes. She doesn’t make wishes to the stars. She makes stars with her wishes.

***

Photos old. Older than her existence. The light in them looks faded, but yet more charming. And the colors all turn to brown and red. The colors of earth. And the faces are familiar. But they are young, like her. 

Her finger follows the soft, round corners of the mat photographic paper. She wants to leave snapshots of her life back, like that. Snap!