On a chilly Saturday afternoon two weeks ago, my Present politely shook hands with a large chunk of my Past.
Time, memory and a sense of the present
Time moves on and on, and the past sinks deeper into our murky pool of memories. We simply can’t encapsulate a moment or an experience so fully that it can be retrieved and relived with any of the colour or depth of the original. Memory is thin and fragile; lacking in colour and detail, devoid…
For my childhood, in celebration of my existence I received from my parents an empty box.