the persistence of memory

The white grandeur of Sacre Couer; midnight MacDonald's on the Champs Elysees; the neon glamour of Las Vegas; racing the pelting raindrops in Amsterdam; sleepy, majestic Delphi; an eclipse in Oslo; chips in Oxford (again and again); new year fireworks at Fisherman's Wharf; cheerless Auschwitz; hot chocolate in Prague; churros in gaudy Barcelona; formal hall in Cambridge; and countless moments in London.

Ever so rarely, something - a word, an image, a smell - triggers a fleeting recollection. For a flicker of a second I remember being somewhere else.

It always startles me when I realise that I'm recalling my life.

I was there. I experienced that. All of it.

The moments have gone, but the memories remain.