Nostalgia hurts because through it we feel weaker for having lost something, rather than stronger for having outlasted it. It is a curious case of optical illusion, a trap that I keep falling back into. I’m not one to suppress my feelings. In fact, I tend to bathe in them, or wear them like fragrances especially the negative ones. But as time goes on I slowly gain some perspective on them, as though an inner observer studied them through my experience of them. Well, clearly the inner observer is very keen on understanding nostalgia, because it’s one of my go-to emotional fragrances. What I find interesting is how much more space there is for me here in the present, rather than in an idealized past. But the confines of the present are blurry, and the my self prefers the fog-shrouded dells of the past, perfect and complete in themselves.