The walls keep record of my youth
to bring nostalgia, remorse,
and cause hesitation in an old, swift movement;
They witness my progressive life,
listen carefully, then echo reflections
of mistakes gone long unmentioned;
They withhold messages of growing
emotions and whisper from room to room,
binding me by my own existence;
They surround like judging eyes that
are aware of how context evolves me;
They shall see me upon my return.
Then, let them wonder what the air has done to me.