Every day I see people selling their history, giving the items they no longer want a new home. I see people searching for vintage treasures and keeping the past alive. It got me thinking, is a love for history a culture?



What is culture?

The dark rimmed glasses and half-shaved heads.

The flavours and sounds of another land.

What is culture?

For me,

The smell of old oak and the deep hues of a stained window.

Holding histories I’ll never have the time to study.

Have the time to wander.

This isn’t predetermined proof

I’m cultured.

When I have the time.

Memories in clearer formation than dreams.

When I wipe the sleep from my eyes

The dreams are put to sleep

And stay there till I have to rest my head again.

But, memories,

Clearer than an ordinary Monday morning

Bring me back to where I started

When you started

And where we will remain.