This day marks the sixth anniversary of this blog (with apologies to A.A. Milne).  It doesn’t seem that long ago that I started this collection of random writings.  The anniversary is just one more reminder that time seems shorter looking back – well, not shorter, but certainly quicker.  The truth is that my past has been longer than my future will be.  It is a melancholy thought.

I have forgotten most of my past.  Why is that?  Why have I forgotten so much of the joy and the awesome moments, while often remembering my errors and regrets?  Does this perverse nostalgia afflict other people, or is it just me?

I don’t remember what I have written here.  Fortunately, I don’t have to remember.  Reading what I have written in the past becomes an artificial memory, a computer-assisted bionic memory.  Reading thoughts from the past, however, sometimes gives me the odd sensation that the words were written by someone else.

I am not the same person I was six years ago, though I have to admit that I am a close relative.  If I am still able to write six years from now, another close relative will have taken over the creative process by then.

He will be a better, wiser person, I hope.

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