I pity the young woman who will attempt to insinuate herself between my mama's boy and me. I sympathize with the monumental nature of her task. It will take a crowbar two bulldozers and half a dozen Molotov cocktails to pry my Oedipus and me loose from one another.
I think you just assume that your memory is just sort of a video playback of your experience but it's nothing like that at all. It's a complete refabrication of an event and a lot of it is made up because you're filling in spaces.
