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November 17, 2013
These days I'm walking around Albany consciously trying to remember the details of every building and person I pass. I'm trying to take photos with my memory, even though I know three years from now the only thing I'll remember about Albany is having Julia's head in my lap on the plaza because she was reacting badly to a lunchtime margarita. I'll remember the homeless guy who shook my hand and wouldn't let go of my thumb who said, "I was in the war, I'm tired of killing people, can I have a dollar?" You can't decide what you remember.