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The Memory of a Particular Image

Recently, while sitting in a taxi at a red light, I noticed the sun hitting the city pavement in a certain way and experienced déjà vu that returned me to a time of velvety optimism, though I could not identify the memory. Was I remembering a walk to my grandparent’s, with me bearing flowers and oranges for a family Lunar New Year feast? Or listening to that Peter, Paul and Mary album I sang along with as a child? Or perhaps taking one of those aimless Sunday afternoon strolls with a…

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