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In my part real memory, and somewhat created memory, is a place in the park, by the water where a large bush was covered with dragonflies. They were large, iridescent insects, and calm enough to clamp the wings between two fingers.
We children would hold two to each hand and run with outstretched arms. If the small being was lucky enough, it would be let go after a short run. But mostly I was a rash child and would find the dragonflies headless or only the wings clamped between my fingers.
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