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Polymorphism

damage by way of debris

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polymorphism

damage by way of debris

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Sometimes cleaning is so sad.  It's necessary, and it can even feel good, but amid the debris, the crap, the bric-a-brac, you find old things that seemed like they would always be part of your topmost self; things you always thought you'd keep in focus, on purpose, because they matter the most.  Finding something like that, after it has been forgotten, is wrenching.

I see a reflection of the person I was when each old thing I behold was new; and some of my inadvertent discards have enough power to make me travel back in time, if only spiritually, if only for a moment.
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