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Postcards To Ourselves

I wish I was here. Lost Lake. This was summer. A picture is almost as good as a smell. I look at this and every boyhood, lake-swimming, yellow-hoody-ed, camping-with-my-family memory is instantly conjured. I almost got lost in Rainier National Park when I was four if it wasn't for that yellow hoody. Memory is at work when the right triggers are used. Maybe that's why we do it. Take pictures I mean.


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