my photographic memory card disintegrated this morning. the wind felt almost hostile. i know it's only wind. tears were squeezed from my eyes. mister was elated. he pooped twice, barked at an exuberant pup, trotted to the park, where the wind stopped me in my tracks, froze my words at the roots, i got the flip phone camera ready and mister had already flipped the apple. got one single picture. yesterday i think i took 3oo, not even thinking how many, til i opened the memory adapter, now defunct.
i was thinking about memory, how you might have a poor memory for detail but richly associative. you might have a body of dismorphic memory.  you might form memory into mental objects. you might not see in pictures your memories. you might feel like you think you feel. you might feel differently expressed than you feel inside. you might have pictures without soul. you might need only one picture. you might need infinite pictures to find it.
you might need to be stopped from some pictured trajectory to the the pictures that stay.