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I think so often about when we began.

I forget it constantly, misremember it, change it out of anger, do my best to be faithful to every movement we made. 

And all of these ways of remembering affect the path we walk now. 

The bracken of the woods, each shrub and each tree that hides the sunlight (because so much of our path is in silent darkness) has been placed there through a memory, or a rejection of one, or by something forgotten- that may never be recovered. 


We are what we have created- but I do not think we are monsters.