I remember playing in the winter sun at home, as a child. I can no longer guess or relate how skewed the whole account might have become in my mind, but it lingers on like a beautiful experience – just the right ingredients to evoke such nostalgia as it now does. We feel the varying height of the midday sun long before we learn about it in school. Then as we grow up and experience such perfect moments, the heart is flooded with who knows what feelings – and then, a yearning for something unknown, an aching, that, at least in sentiment, joins us with the rest of humanity: I can say this with reasonable certainty as I remember myself, and have seen other children later, ruminating at the age of six and seven ‘remote’ childhood experiences.


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