Memories are something strange like when I was — I have very clear memories of my childhood, but after the moment it happened that my brother had the same, and I was sure that it happened to me, and he was sure that it had happened to him.1 And I think it was just my mother, who at the moment didn’t know, but she told us both the same story, and the images just came afterwards. But the images of these memories of the childhood are very clear, but perhaps it never happened.

  1. Postwar Baby, Story That Is Embedded []
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