Just Roaming

I was wandering around the storage rooms in my head, and thinking about how memories are archived up in there like some big and nifty warehouse.

I remember something in particular which starts shotgunning open all these other files, sending a flurry of memories raining down, like old triplicate forms blown by fans.

I begin to worry a bit about the sections of said warehouse where memories begin to morph with other people’s stories, or complete fictions to begin with.

I worry that sometimes I can’t tell. I worry about what happens to my past when my memories become corroded.

I start to think of that section of the warehouse as becoming overrun by strange, organic material, slowly melting formerly strong foundations into something completely new.

That’s kind of exciting…

Then I think that my head will begin to look like this if I continue to obsess over how my brain functions:

Sorry, that was weird.

Next time I’ll tell you about meeting Jason Lytle at Easy Street.