Whenever I try to remember, I see it. That soft blue curtain shrouds a lifetime of memories, moving rhythmically as though caressed by a gentle breeze or a loving hand. It hides shadows and movement. If I watch long enough, a corner may billow out and reveal a glimpse of my past.

There is a girl.

Sometimes she steps close enough that I see her silhouette framed behind the sheer expanse of blue. Mysterious lights shimmer on her face and she calls out to me, "Remember me my prince." She calls from behind the blue curtain of my hidden memories.