Side-by-side they sit, the memories of my life. They know each other well, but they pretend that they don’t. They represent a shared fantasy, but they prefer to sit on the sidelines, each in a separate corner, each in a different costume.
There is a string that ties these memories together. When I take time to review these flashbacks, I am conscious of the thousand-and-one threads that bind them to each other. With what shall I sew these synapses? Will my recollections be beneficial?
The answers are coming with every newly classified thought. I am again lost in memory, and it feels good.