[Somehow, you miss the lulling and rolling that rocked you to sleep every night. There's a
fondness for the smell of salt and the splash of water that you can't quite seem to put into
words. A vague feeling, like a memory you are just barely cognisant enough to realize was
leaving you and fading. Ebb and flow, day in and day out.
Maybe forgetting isn't a bad thing. The forest floor is much softer than the blanket you
just vaguely recall.]
