a reminder, remindrance, hinting, it's the imprinting of a time or place or person on a personal object, a restaurant, a town, something as simple as a shirt, a song, a first date mini golf course, that connection between a sensory event, be it with the eyes, or ears, tongue or nose, that instantly, without fail, without prodding, without effort and energy, brings to mind someone special. how hard is it to break these chains of memory, to remove the binding memories on one object and place the reins in another's hands? is it even possible, does it even happen? with enought time and good memories, you'd hope so, or maybe it's just with enough alcohol and drugs. but these imprints, these residual fingerprints of times long past, they make it hard to see what's really there. there's a real thing, then there's the memory hazed image of the real thing, maybe at a particular time and place, and then there's the prospect of what the real thing might become, a hint of the future, but that's another muse for another day. it's history. and sometimes history is nothing more than weight.