THE THIRD:

narrative

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Looking back,

I have a vague sense of remembrance

Of one specific memory – of a memory.

No,

This so-called memory is just myself

Recognizing a photo of my three-year-old self.

See,

I see a younger version of myself

In a room that’s not exactly a room.

And yet, 

There he is, holding a polaroid picture

In his left hand; it’s one of a younger version of himself.

Zooming in,

The three-year-old totters down a hill

Surrounded by puppies, and he likes it – a lot.

You know,

So do I, and it’s not a bad memory

Of a picture to look back on.

Yeah, this actually is the earliest memory I can conjure up. I would love comments and questions, as well as suggestions.

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