If some were only meant to walk a part of the path with us what do we do with all they've left behind. Their footsteps right next to ours, as imprints that do not fade. The fragrance of their soul still lingering at every turn. The transformations to the path they've walked on. Everything remains like a still ruin, so beautiful yet too little. What do we do with the time they took from us, rather than be prisoners in its loop.













