So, a recent visit to my Mum's house offered up a strange burst of memory. In a small pencil case, she had gathered together a bunch of the hand held 'game and watch' consoles we had all played as kids and stored them in a drawer where they lay untouched. My brother and I found some old batteries and charged them up. I played a few of them - 'Fire', 'Donkey Kong Jr.' were alway my favourites - and immediately my fingers remembered what I had not. My fumbling mansize digits aced the games as if a day hadn't elapsed in the decades since I last held them in my hand. Bodies can always compress time, senses allow the years to collapse in ways that our minds refuse to, no matter how strong the desire. Of course, like any burst of childhood memory, the warmth and terror of a crippling man sized nostalgia followed. So I buried it the way I normally do. I took a photo to kill and then falsify the real world emotion. In any case, thanks Mum.