I thought going around once would bring me back to where I started,
but whether one turn or two, time
can never return to its original place.
Everything either remains as memories or gets forgotten.
Thinking that just over there, one turn, and I could go back to that time —
that was just an ordinary dream of an ordinary person.
And so December arrives again, the last year of my twenties, stretching awake.
For some, mid-twenties; for others, the last of their teens.
An ordinary person reminiscing about the normal stories of past days made with ordinary vessels,
and today too, the clock hands complete another turn.
