My earliest memory is something I only realized recently I had, but when I did I felt it with full force.
I was 4 or so, it was summer. We were living in the country, my mother was washing dishes or doing something in the kitchen, she was listening to "Paint it black" by the Rolling Stones, on vinyl.
I remember sitting there, listening to words I couldn't understand back then, looking at the light coming through the windows ... and that's it. It really came back to me only after she died, and now I cherish it like no other memory.
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