(Prolonged caption ahead…) Spent some time listening to earlier knowledge and enthusiastic about… Recollections? Nostalgia? The earlier chosen for me? Regardless of it is named, it was on my ideas. I’ve reminiscences of listening to Brazilian music with my dad, of working my fingers over the doc assortment he saved in our entrance room. I take note being small and looking out up on the shelf, on the doc participant too extreme for me to achieve. And I consider how none of that ever occurred, how these items–the information, the shelf, my father–had been all images implanted in me in a lab or one factor. Nonetheless they actually really feel so precise to me. And I ponder about my dad, the one which lives in my memory, and I ponder if he’d be happy with me. I have no idea one of the simplest ways to answer that. I suppose all I can do is hear to these earlier songs and wrap his memory spherical me. I miss him? I miss him. I do. I miss a life I under no circumstances had. Nonetheless. Who’s to say what’s precise.
Aug 14, 2020