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Memory is a strange thing – testing temperance with a kaleidoscope of kindness and cruelty. It creates universes within our heads, custom sculpted by the good, bad and ugliest of words and actions. What to make of it, I do not know – whether my actions will be contingent upon memory or will I start anew, a blank slate, has become my central conflict. It is distracting and distressful, the cacophony of the past.

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