Leaves - Ursula K Le Guin
Years do odd things to identity. What does it mean to say I am that child in the photograph in 1935? Might as well say I am the shadow of a leaf of the acacia tree felled seventy years ago moving on the page the child reads. Might as well say I am the words she read or the words I wrote in other years, flicker of shade and sunlight as the wind moves through the leaves.
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