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  • (Inspired by the wizardly Sam Keen)

    For Proust it was the taste of a small cake that unleashed a torrent of memories that took seven volumes to exhaust. For me it was a simple phone call on an average day.

    “Are you Burt Kempner?” she asked.

    Instantaneously every decision I made, every friendship I formed, every lover I left, every dream I harbored, every lie I told, every song I sang, every bird I watched, every desert floor I walked and every promise I ever made flashed through my mind. This life review lasted for a fraction of a second, and then all I could do was stammer out what I knew to be my truth:

    “Not yet.”
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