There was this pizza place in Penticton. They would take extra Pizza dough and put it in the middle of the pizza. It was my families go to pizza place. I loved those extra pizza balls you would get with your pizza.
Sitting in a car with warm takeout pizza always reminds me of driving home with my family.
It’s weird how memories can be held in smells. And places. And tastes.
How the smell of a pizza can hold your childhood family nights.
Or the sight of a Burger King can bring you back to your second block spares in high school.
We think of our memories as being firmly fixed within our minds. But they can be just as external as they are internal.
Without memories, we wouldn’t be conscious. Our understanding of ourselves as people only comes from our ability to see ourselves interacting with the world over time. With no memory, we don’t exist.
Memories hold parts of ourselves. The smells, sounds, and landmarks of our past are pieces of our former versions of you.
When a song transports you years into the past, you are almost reencountering yourself
As you drive down the main street of your old home town, you find parts of yourself littered like Horcruxes across the community.
Grade twelve breakfast banter at Burger King.
Grade eight buying lighters at the cd shop.
Being twenty-one and experiencing the moments before moving away from home for the final time.
For a moment you slip into a skin you once wore and realized it doesn’t fit you anymore.
You’ve adapted to a new reality a new world. You can return and feel for fleeting moments this world that you once knew so well but isn’t home to you anymore.
You experience a place that in the same moment is so familiar, and yet so foreign.
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