Certain events embed themselves in memory and, like images on glass, are irrevocably etched.
Someone I knew well for a number of years told me this story.
It did not emerge all at once, like a waterfall cascading over a dam. Rather, perhaps like the life cycle of the grasshopper itself, it came about in fragments, in bits and pieces, as the life cycle of the grasshopper itself goes from egg to nymph to, finally…
