Wong Wei Him

Memory Palace

Every Sunday morning, I take my daughter to my parental home,

a place where I had grown up. Strange enough,

this particular routine allows me to revisit a place that

I was very familiar with, and in the eyes of an outsider.

Like good photos could speak, a place can hold memories

from the past. Here I find memories of my father.

My mind is a time machine, and nostalgia is the temperature

that can keep someone warm in heart.


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