On an old desk sits a stack of parchment Each page carelessly inscribed with words of yesterdays. The ink stains so permanently that no amount of scrubbing or blotting will wipe clean the mistakes made there. Each memory is ingrained forever. A kaleidoscope of tears, of laughter. And beside that growing pile sits a fresh sheet of paper, waiting for a wise writer to begin anew and finally cast aside the yellowed scrolls. Waiting patiently for the touch of a fresh quill for tomorrow brings a new page.