Of all the moments you could have remembered you chose the noisiest, crowded, juggernaut of them all.
Had I whispered white sheets, white jasmine, white cars, white clouds, it would not have mattered.
The crushing gigantic wooden wheels of the trinity got your attention.
But then you loved drama and scale.
I looked for sense in debris.
A collection of shells and the sound of the sea.
When the bells toll, some go to pray, others prepare for war.