The Real Epilogue the Memori of An American Childhood

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In my memoir, An American Childhood, I only ever wanted to define the meaning of life. I wanted everyone to wake up so that we could finally prove Thoreau wrong when he said that he had never met a man who was fully awake- well, here is a woman who is, me. I wanted to present a collection of images, mental frames of reference that played a vital role in the formation of modern identity. This allowed me to let you feel my experiences of confusion and wonderment and witness the growth of maturity that resonated in my mind's eye. Those random events and memories of my childhood developed the profound senses of change. It appears as if nothing of importance was mentioned in my memoir but take a closer look.
Memory is such a valiant little thing - it keeps to itself what hurts and tenderizes us in the current situation. How far back can it go? And how in fact, do any of us remember anything about when we were younger? Sure, I recalled incidents that were childhood accidents, a fearful incident such as the monster, a phobia, a scolding over an inexcusable matter of bad manners, encounters...

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