It’s a funny thing about comin’ home. Looks the same, smells the same, feels the same. You’ll realize what’s changed is you.
Above: July 4th, 2008, Berkley Ma. Top image, my first home that I remember. Taunton, MA. It laid by the banks of the three mile river. I remember every room, every square inch, every snowy day, every thunder storm.
You leave home, you move on and you do the best you can.
I got lost in this old world and forgot who I am.
I thought if I could touch this place or feel it
This brokenness inside me might start healing.
Out here it’s like I’m someone else,
I thought that maybe I could find myself.
If I could walk around I swear I’ll leave.
Won’t take nothing but a memory
From the house that, built me.
Carl Sagan mentions such things as false memories and confabulations, and they are not rare at all. Misrememberings are the rule, not the exception. They occur all the time. They occur even in cases where the subject is absolutely confident – even when the memory is a seemingly unforgettable flashbulb, one of those metaphorical mental photographs.” You take it from here.