123 High

I have recently decided to put all of my photos and memorabilia into albums chronologically in order to document my life for my daughter. I had many in small albums but I also have about two Rubbermaid tubs full of random pics. I already have three albums done and have not even scratched the surface. This is going to take a while. I really am enjoying this because I am reliving all these crazy memories, good and bad. I haven't realized that I have lived so much. What will it feel like in twenty years? I will probably have to have a room just for memories. I am such a sap. When I see some of these pics I go back to random scenes in my mind and remember the smells more than anything. Like 123 High St, an apartment of some of my friends that we all sort of lived at, smelled like a mix of smoke, marijuana, insence, parrot poop and at times a bit of trash and stale beer. I can remember the smell of the couches that I passed out on about one million times and the faint odor of pizza that came from the bar across the street.