La Bom Ville Sans Merci

It is a tale of two cities, and one of them hath thee in thrall.

What lure do sleepy streets snaking lazily past red brick and stone houses and the green of your childhood hold against glittering lights, the din of daily survival and a sea that skirts around reclaimed sin?

Sliver of Silence

why do we stop speaking when there is so much left unsaid?

Configuring sunnier outlooks

Don't remember when I spent an entire afternoon grinning, as I did today. A walk down the memory mail lane serves to remind you of a period insanity reigned supreme but you hadn't lost your way in the madhouse, why some of your friends are the best you'll ever have , a time when jobs chased you regardless of the economy or the GDP growth rate, the brashness of youth as opposed to the supplicant tone that you now sub-consciously prefer, photographs you had forgotten existed, songs that lifted you up on days that work didn't, chirpy conversations with people who now are relegated to contacts, flirtations and petty squabbles that were and were not.

The best memories maybe in your head (unless early onset of Alzheimer's has made you a middle aged Benjy Button). The ones you have omitted to remember are, hopefully, backed up in your sufficiently large disk space.

Mirroring the state of our times

..and when trips down Nostalgia Lane involve mass production at the smile factory, you know that from a technical perspective, the depression is very likely over .

Or some such:)

Almost there

Whym Wham!
How could one forget?