Thanks for the Memories I Don’t Remember

Spent much of Tuesday prone under the eaves of the soon-to-be-vacated cabin in the woods, pulling boxes of my past, of memories that I’d forgotten I’d had, towards their final vanishing.

(More than) slightly disturbing to find those memories that I forget, that life before, that childhood – though I barely recognize the tiny stranger (with a chainsaw in one, so pretty accurate) pictured as anything but separate from myself – tucked away and keeping the mouse shit company; perhaps it’s a life...