The misty grey smoke danced like an elegant damsel as it traveled in the still air of the room. As the familiar scent of burning fire hung itself in the room, crackling of materials being burnt complimented it. As the smoke rose in the air, ashes from the fire took birth and followed the smoke, appearing like snow on a cold winter day. A few inches below a figure is seen stoking the fire patiently. It was a bonfire, a ritual of some sort by the figure. As the flames licked and tried to claw their way out, they gave the impression of evil beings being born, slowly clawing their way out of their mother’s womb. The fire grew larger and the flames burnt angrily. However, it was the sad blue flame in the centre of the fire that breathed life to the yellow flames on the outside. The colours of the fires deceived the naked eye, for the sad blue flame although appearing calm, was hotter than the yellow aggressive rebellious flames. The figure takes out bottles from his pouch, four bottles they were representing the four months. Slowly uncapping the bottles, he takes a deep breath, looks at the memories in the bottles one last time and pours the memories into the burning fire. The yellow flames devoured the memories hungrily, giving the impression of a famished tiger who had not eaten for days. Licking this way and that, the flames clawed and craved for more. Three more bottles of memories were dumped into the growing fire. And when there were no more memories left to burn, the figure placed the bottles back into his pouch, sat at the bonfire and warmed himself. The fire slowly died, leaving no trail of ash, except for the grace and beauty of the smoke, dancing it’s way through up into the air and slowly, patiently merging with the air in the room. And that’s the story of how the figure burnt memories away in the bonfire of his mind.