packed away
packing away a past life is like looking into a dream. the people you see are so familiar but some great distance, whether a vast chronological expanse or personal division, has made them into completely unfamiliar objects which you examine questioningly. who was this person? what did he/she think and do? why did he/she act and think as they did? you see yourself, but you know it's not you. none of the features that you associate with yourself now are present in this apparition. but he's still oddly familiar, you see him as an old friend. or perhaps a beloved character from some story told long ago by someone far away. As you examine pictures and writing for insight to his identity you discover many artifacts whose comprehension are just beyond your grasp, because this great expanse that separates you from this strangely familiar stranger has clouded your perception, it's like you're looking through a telescope that's not quite focused, and no matter what you do you will not be able to restore it's focus to how it previously was, because the person who focused it is gone because the truth of it is that we're all spinning around the sun and somehow that makes time, and everybody someday has to die. but is it that way by design?