Been on a nostalgia trip tonight, aided and abetted by Enya’s
album Shepherd Moons.
1995: A special year in so many ways. So many memories. Marijuana and mysterious time shifts. Night rides in shabby trains. Wind and rain and a rare sense of connection. Spring snow and cratered ice. Big gains and a major loss. Coincidences little short of astonishing. Emotions as high as the flag in July. A girl called Sue and a guy called Stefan.
And what are memories but faded photographs in fractured frames?
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