I have a very vivid mental image from one of my trips to Italy, a sort of motion picture or clip that replays itself in my mind, one that is etched deeply in the recesses of my mind but which can erupt to the surface when triggered by the right stimulus. It is a memory that is the result of an instantaneous, violent twist of fate. When I close my eyes, I can see it in detail as real as the instant in which it transpired.
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