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December 16, 2008



Huh. I think little sister T might have been in the car, too. She might even have been closer to the door that opened. See, memory, not so perfect a storage system.


As a child, there are fewer memories with which to compare each new experience, few competing impressions; Each unique new experience is engraved sharply, in grand isolation in the midst of an enourmous blank page. As more and more is writtenin the pages of our memories, the newer ones lose their distinction, crowded as they are by so many other memories. The lines blur... But those early memories are etched deep and clear.

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