being—if it isn't too absurd to say such a thing— of being HALF SOMEBODY ELSE. Some casual little thing—a tune or a scent or a name in a newspaper or a look of something or somebody will remind me, just for a second—and yet I haven't time to get any grip of what it DOES remind me of—it's a sort of wisp of memory that can't be trapped before it fades away... For instance, when I saw that mountain this morning I felt I'd been there—I almost KNEW I'd been there... I could see that lake between the summits—why, I'd BATHED in it—there was a slab of rock jutting out like a diving-board—and the day I
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