How Foreign is the Past?

Heading rapidly towards midnight on another Saturday, with Tears for Fears “Songs from the Big Chair” on the ipod. I was 16 when that album came out, and yet it seems like yesterday. As soon as the opening song “Shout” started, I was back there in 1985, my mind a flood of images from then. So long ago, how can that be? The power of music to do that never ceases to amaze me, never ceases to render me speechless and wordless to describe it. It doesn’t matter what type of music it is, some pieces have this transportive power. I see my 16 year old self, so different; was it really me? If he saw me, what would he say? And if I met him, I don’t doubt I would be surprised at the things I had forgotten. And yet, if we did meet, I think we would have a lot to talk about. Assuming we could understand each other.
The past really is a foreign country, one for which you will never get a visa, let alone revisit.

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