Other people's lives

On recurrent memory, naughty movies, and wondering why

We didn’t live in that house, but the time we spent there surely added up to years. It belonged to friends, a family we were close to throughout my childhood. They were a family of three, like my own, which worked out handily, so that we each got a friend in the deal. We spent more time at their house than they did at ours, probably because theirs was b…