Memory is a funny thing. A few years ago I read a book in which one character famously never danced.
Everyone in the book agreed that person was just not a dancer. But then one day, flipping through an old photo album, there was a picture of him on the dance floor.
I thought the memory of the day my daughter learned to fly a kite in China was complete and clear. It was such a special event I was sure every detail would stick in my memory forever. I don’t remember flying a kite myself in China, but here is evidence that it happened.
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