This week, we turn up three very different Freshly Pressed posts united by their incisive exploration of unexplored, long forgotten, or unexpected experiences, experiences that have been made somehow peripheral by time, geography, or culture. They’re posts you’ve responded to, and that we hope you’ll find resonant.
I started to think how long I’ve been doing this, this whole writing thing, and how it had taken until my mid-thirties before I could really conduct myself in public where I could hold two opposing ideas in my mind at the same time: 1. that I was a writer and 2. I was me.
We’re all familiar with the idea of digging through old journals or photo albums. But what about the digital detritus we leave behind? The social networks we moved on from, the notes-to-self scribbled on digital stickies, the email accounts left for dead? In this post…
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