Nostalgia. writing stories

mjkemp91 I like to create and inspire.
Autoplay OFF   •   3 years ago
A meditation on the feeling of nostalgia.

These memories were not so much remembered as they were felt.


“Where am I?”

The space was remarkably tiny, but did not feel like it. The faint glow of the afternoon sun through the shutters, cracked halfway, cast an amber glow over everything.

There was a smell of dust in the air. The piano, worn and out-of-tune, took up almost the entire space of the living room.

The foyer bled into the living room, the living room bled into the kitchen, and the bathroom was so small you might pass right by it on your way to the backyard if you weren’t looking for it.

This place…it looks so familiar.

“It is. This is where you were raised.”

Raised…why could I not remember it clearly?

Gradually, brief shadows of memories appeared: faint afterimages, events struggling to be recalled to the surface and be brought back to life.

These memories were not so much remembered as they were felt.

Vignettes…pieces…fragments. They all appeared before me stitched together with the weak, faulty, fragile continuity of memory.

It was like I was watching a home movie about someone else’s life-a distant acquaintance.


It was like trying to remember the brief point in time when I watched the movie, only after years later.

“Where am I?”

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