"It was spring, perhaps"

On timelines, testimony, and the limits of recall

Once the season turns enough that the sun rises with me and the temperature is tolerable, I resume my ritual of a pre-coffee walk each morning. At any point between 6 and 8am throughout the week, you can find me slowly wandering the streets with headphones on, nothing playing, contemplating my mere existence.

This morning, I came back through the door wi…