A Memory From My Youth Comes Back To Me. You Go Into The Woods On A Bike, With A Girl. There Is The Smell Of Heather, You Can Hear The Wind In The Fir Trees, You Don't Dare Tell Her About Your Love, But You Feel Happy, As If You Were Floating Above The Ground. Then You Look At The Clouds Beyond The Trees And They Are Fleeting. And You Know That Within An Hour You'll Have To Go Home, That Tomorrow Will Be A Working Day. You Wish You Could Stop That Moment Forever, But You Can't, It Is Bound To End. So You Take A Photo, As If To Challenge Time.
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A Memory From My Youth Comes Back
Robert Doisneau
A Memory From My Youth Comes Back To Me. You Go Into The Woods On A Bike, With A Girl. There Is The Smell Of Heather, You Can Hear The Wind In The Fir Trees, You Don't Dare Tell Her About Your Love, But You Feel Happy, As If You Were Floating Above The Ground. Then You Look At The Clouds Beyond The Trees And They Are Fleeting. And You Know That Within An Hour You'll Have To Go Home, That Tomorrow Will Be A Working Day. You Wish You Could Stop That Moment Forever, But You Can't, It Is Bound To End. So You Take A Photo, As If To Challenge Time.
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