If you’re anything like me, you see in sepia. Our voices are now dry and dusty, boxed away somewhere up top. It took up space, was no longer relevant or useful to us over the years. Every now and then, we go up there and bring out a phrase we don’t care much about, throw it into an All Hands meeting or a phone call from a wrong number. The ones we never take out of the box are our most prized possessions. The ones we don’t want to use until someone can appreciate it with us.

When’s the last time you took them out? How much dust has collected around them?

If you’re anything like me, they overflow the box. They’re coffee-stained, some written on napkins or torn pieces of paper. Some scribbled on college ruled crumpled paper. Is your name and date on the top left or the top right? Some are just that: A name and date. Everything is written fast so you forget nothing…at least what you can remember at the time.

If you’re anything like me, the box is falling apart. Its been taken out so many times, used as a tool to prove you exist. The boxing tape became useless years ago and one layer of the cardboard close had no place here anyway. But now, its just covered and hidden, by layers of a soft grey that you’re too tired to clean off.

If you’re anything like me, you might need an extra pair of hands to help wipe the dust off, watch it disintegrate behind it’s actual potential. We’ll go through them in the forest, a few miles of hiking. We’ll go through them in the car, hours on end until we go through them on white hotel sheets. We’ll go through them with Harmony Korine and Tool. We’ll go through them in places that resembled our boxes.

I’ll watch your tired eyes, you watch my messy hair. I’ll match your faded black attire, your desire to learn, and your way with words.

After awhile, it won’t be so sepia stained anymore.