Memory … all alone in the moonlight
It’s weird how memory works. I was out for coffee with my friend Maki (who I haven’t seen in about 10 years) and I said something about her being Mexican. I’m positive that she’s Mexican. But she’s not. She’s Chilean. I know she’s Chilean, but I’m positive she’s Mexican. Why? Because somehow in my memory, one thing about her is more real than another. She may be Chilean, but what I remember and what is more real to me is that she went to Mexico with her dad and brought me back a souvenir. For whatever reason this association with Mexico is more real to me than the fact that I know she’s from Chile. Very strange.