Memories are traitors. They don’t fight fair. They sucker punch you to disorientation: a scent, a place, a book, a song, a line. They gut you. Brutally intrude your innermost subconscious and creep around silently, making you stop and lose it for a second.

Then, when you’re just about wrapping your head around what happened, they just walk casually by, oblivious of what has traspired. While you, you shake your head, go your way and move forward. These memories break you. Bit by bit. Until you realize you’ve come too far from that place where you’ve lost your fragments and it’s far too late to return and find them.


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