What To Wear To A Thai Restaurant

A window into the shadows

It has become in my head: a window open that slips past the other. And I'm very satisfied.

The past belongs to us. Nothing is as much ours as what we have lived. And there's something terrible to think that because of my gift, the past of others are exposed to my gaze.

's not my fault, of course, I can not help it. But I do not like. Yesterday Tara grabbed my arm and saw arguing with his mother. Mom hugged me and I saw her walking in Paris with my father (before father jerk back, of course). Victor brushed past me and saw a sad boy packing a suitcase.

Victor.

I had promised not to about it, much less to write. I had promised myself not to think of Victor, Victor does not remember.

course this is not my fault, right?

I can not help it. Neither Victor nor visions.

Fortunately, I have not seen anything very private. Only domestic scenes, things of no importance. But I wonder what the day will change that.

The day you see something else.

Something nobody should have seen.