Even at a young age, I have watched the sands of time trickle down through the hourglass.  each grain of sand magnified by the hard, absolute curves of the glass.  Each touch, each sensation, each fabricated moment of ultimate bliss we take for granted with our partners is nothing but a mere memory.  If that scholar of the past once said past is just memory, I don't know if I agree.   We all long for the past in some way, but so easily dismiss it in occurrence.