Nicolai struggled with a torn piece of paper. He dangled it from his fingers and watched as it slowly soared towards the sky with the assistance of the wind, then suddnely flop to the earth. Many stones, cobbles, and streets had passed under his feet. And in those walks and in so few years plenty of images and dreams had been collected. Like pennies in the piggy account they gathered on top of each other, pushing at its edges until they gushed forth. These thoughts evoked a sadness in him seeped from his heart. But he could not help but indulge in them. Melanchonly though they were these memories were a lifeforce all in there own. They kept him dreaming. Bitter. Bitter but sweet.