he still remembered every detail
the way the water looked
the way the trees tilted in the slight summer breeze
the way, for once, even the hoards of tourists didn't vex her
the way those books smelt.
and now he's alone. but the memory still takes him there.
when the waters move
when the trees dance
when the tourists laugh. and their cameras flash.
when he falls upon a random page
and the scent is like a portkey back