It is hard for me to remember my past. When confronted with pictures, something is stirred but not very strongly. I don’t see a resemblance between the two pictures above. Physiologically, there is nothing left of the person from 1968. Every cell in that body has long since died and has been regenerated many times over. So many brain synapses have been broken and so many new ones established. My present memories of 1968 are so faint as to be almost non-existent.

Yet that little boy is in me.