Dreaming Out of Open Windows

From time to time, I get blindsided by nostalgia. This isn’t the warm fuzzies or softly sighing kind of nostalgia, but the ambushed and left in a tizzy on the curb type. I blame part of this on the way that memories are stored in an intricate web of sight, sound, and sensation. It’s remarkable … Continue reading Dreaming Out of Open Windows

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