Memories...looking at something through water. 

Distorted and rippled and blurred. 

You hold the water in your hands, memories, memories, memories. No matter how much you try to cling to them, water seeps through the cracks, down the drain, into oblivion, as new memories are poured in. Old and new mingle, and you hold onto them tighter, water sloshing around your palm and inevitably seeping out from the fissures in between.

The constant movement, the change and the flow, distorts your vision until you are not sure what you see...if it's really there at all.

But it is there, it is there.

Eventually, the water runs out. 

And at the end of the day, maybe there are a few drops of left, of the handful you had in the beginning. And drops from the past, the present, ever floating, scattered throughout time.

The water seeps through the cracks, down the drain.

The hands fade, vanish, and the memories evaporate, curl like smoke into the atmosphere, drifting off into the universe.