He would often think about his childhood but only in vague, nondescript terms. He had no concrete memories, no complete stories to tell. There were only fleeting images and passing scenes--dreamlike--that evoked just a flicker of emotion before evaporating.
He had no solid picture of his mother in his mind. Nor his father. He had only fragments and they were not detailed. He wasn't sure what color his mother's eyes were. When he tried to conjure her up, they appeared gray, an ill defined, indiscreet color.
And so it was with all of his memories. They took on a gray, indistinct, murky feeling.
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