Picturing my mind.

Sometimes thoughts just flush through my mind...
I see or hear something and there's the picture.
It may be my stepfather standing at my mom's oven, taking out a eight pound monster of a turkey.
It may be my dad, standing before a statue in some museum, reading.
It may be the scene two summers ago, me walking past the Neckarwiese, up to one end and the other, searching for someone who wasn't there in fact.
Or the picture of the tree in the schoolyard, with his yellow flowers, which where taken away by the wind in a big rush and everything being covered in yellow flowers.

Sometimes they're wonderful pictures.
Sometimes they're not.
They all belong to my past and they're all not gone by now.

Sometimes I think this is not my world.
To say it with the words of Michael Schock in "Fahr zur Hölle"