A year of forced stillness has been doing strange things to this brain of mine, it’s been swirling thought like a storm, it’s been sending thousands of gallons of memory down through the tributaries of my mind. I look back and I see all the places I’ve wandered, the fields I’ve walked through, the laughter shared over bubble cones and late night tea. I see these people in these places and they stop feeling real, they feel like dreams that filtered through sleep and restlessness and filled my imagination with wonder. I know they are real, but time changes them, I forget the stones underfoot, I lose the fact that there were wildflowers in those grasses. Memories are like rivers, they change every time we dip a toe into them, for we change, and the eyes we look backwards with see in new lights.
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