Hoe Zou Het Nu Gaan?

Strangely enough, memory can be polite. He doesn't call, he doesn't text, he doesn't make a scene, but suddenly, somewhere between evening tea and a boring TV show, it all starts again – those eyes, that voice, and the phrase "what if...". It seems like everything has been experienced, let go, even signed in the archive under "former," but inside, a quiet light still flickers - like a lightbulb in an empty stairwell that no one turns off out of pity. It's funny, and a little sad: people promise to be friends, but who actually knows how to be friends after an ending? Only the music remained - soft, almost a whisper, like a conversation with someone who is no longer here, but who still doesn't leave. Because forgetting doesn't mean you stop remembering.