Meditations on memories… aka the 4th of July
Memories etched out in physical form.
Rocks. A Graveyard. Fireworks.
Monuments to old neighborhoods.
Sometimes I’m puzzled by what I remember and what I don’t.
What my stories are that I tell of who I am.
Of who I want to be.
The only certainty of it, is the memories I leave behind will not be my own.