...or just another flashback.
Maybe it’s just old age, but for some reason I’ve been revisiting—in my mind—some of the fading experiences of hippie days. Many of them seem, in retrospect, golden, infused with naive spirituality. But then, a recollected whiff of patchouli and Tisit yanks it back into all-too personal perspective.
The notion of lost time, temps perdu, probably infests …