We can only go home in maps

As I sit here in this fetid stew of sweat and regrets it has dawned on me that we can only go home in maps. The place we once held so dear the times where we soaked up the most sun can only be reached in the vaults of our own skulls, buttressed by dendrites and neurons, there is nothing here but a smile. There can be nothing more of those indexed thoughts and emotions, those laughs, those tears. In their stead there must be created new halls, new annexes of hearts that we will not forget. When the past is clung to it starts to erode the future. Like the bank of river choked off by developments, you will wallow away. And now the zooming in is all we have left. It is all we know. And you're bound to be bound if your mind occupies such shallow lots. To be reiterated, there must be a new edifice.
Enjoy the ride.