I have tried, I have tried to forget. Forget the existence of what needs to be forgotten. But that has a price, a scary, unnecessary price. To forget what means home, what means home inside me, remove one memory. But the other memories, don’t stop holding each other’s hand and sillently follow like a chain each other and disappear, squeeze in and stay in, silently, like packed sardines in the box, the box I ‘ve hidden what needs to be forgotten. Yesterday night, I found a old video of my aunt, I heard her singing, it took me to a happy place inside me, her beautiful voice kept me company when I was a child, I remembered when I sang her songs, how I felt and I remembered that very silence yesterday, I felt home, inside myself. . . felt peace. Now this untold story has been told.