The future of the past is definitely going to happen. Once, I spread my life out in front of me like ransom note clippings and jumbled it all up. I pulled bits out and stuck them next to other bits. Randomly really. Everything looked the same. I tried a few from the pile that hadn’t happened yet and that was hard. It didn’t look like much, sort of like your brother’s son who you haven’t seen in ten years but then you run into them in the street, in the dark, and they look really familiar, only, obscured somehow.

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