Feb. 20th, 2020

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Will this be the third spring in the same spot? The 4th summer? Is that possible?

That must be why things feel familiar even though so much has changed. The angle of the sun, the sun across snow, the colour of light matches the patterns of heat and cold on my skin.

I looked at old pictures and they're the same animals but smaller and younger. They're the same places.

How does anyone who moves around keep memories? I remember Odin, he's under the oak tree. Josh helped me bandage his toes before I moved here. I remember the first round of pigs, some of them is under the plum trees. The reason my garden is that size is because the first garden space was made out of hog panels, which are increments of 16'. I remember the clover in my yard the first summer I was here, everything smelled like clover all over. I remember myself, new here before my stuff arrived from down south, echoing around in the house and it was so hot in summer before I learned to shade the windows. I remember.... so much, because the memories are embedded in the place.

What happens when you've lived in one place for five years? More? The past must exist in such a real way that no one could ever tell you it didn't happen.
greenstorm: (Default)
Will this be the third spring in the same spot? The 4th summer? Is that possible?

That must be why things feel familiar even though so much has changed. The angle of the sun, the sun across snow, the colour of light matches the patterns of heat and cold on my skin.

I looked at old pictures and they're the same animals but smaller and younger. They're the same places.

How does anyone who moves around keep memories? I remember Odin, he's under the oak tree. Josh helped me bandage his toes before I moved here. I remember the first round of pigs, some of them is under the plum trees. The reason my garden is that size is because the first garden space was made out of hog panels, which are increments of 16'. I remember the clover in my yard the first summer I was here, everything smelled like clover all over. I remember myself, new here before my stuff arrived from down south, echoing around in the house and it was so hot in summer before I learned to shade the windows. I remember.... so much, because the memories are embedded in the place.

What happens when you've lived in one place for five years? More? The past must exist in such a real way that no one could ever tell you it didn't happen.

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