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Sunday, August 5, 2012

MEMORY

I’ll never forget the time . . .um,  . . .I’ll never forget the time . . .the time that . . .no, sorry, it’s gone. I can’t remember what I was going type. Oh well. I’m sure whatever it was I’ll never forget was very memorable but I’ll be damned if I can recall what it was right now.

Memory really is a funny old thing isn’t it? I mean, half of the time you can’t remember things and the other half of the time you, . . .um, . . .you, . . .no, sorry, I can’t remember what I was going to type about the other half of the time but I bet it’s true whatever it is.

I do remember one thing though. I remember waking up around five a.m. when I was six years of age and looking out my bedroom window. I could see the silhouette of a poplar tree against a streaky porridge beige sky and there was a sound in the air, like a drawn out shrieking. I remember that quite clearly. I wonder what that sound was. I never heard it again. Or maybe I did but I just can’t remember when I did. I doubt it though, if I heard that sound again I would have remembered hearing it again because I never forgot hearing it the first time and . . .oh, hold on, that’s what I was going to type at the start of this post. I was going to type that I’ll never forget the time I woke up around five a.m. when I was six years of age and looked out my bedroom window and saw the silhouette of a poplar tree against a streaky porridge beige sky and heard a sound in the air, like a drawn out shrieking. That’s what I was going type. I remember now. Ha! Well, that’s memory for you.

Memory really is a funny old thing isn’t it? I mean, half of the time you can’t remember things and the other half of the time you, . . .um, . . .you, . . .no, sorry, I can’t remember what I was going to type about the other half of the time but I bet it’s true whatever it is.

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