The smell of memory...

Have you ever wondered how memories work? Why do we get such a rush of it - desired or otherwise - when we get it? Does the smell of fresh linen; the pungent-ness of soiled ones; body odour or the cologne dashed onto you in an Indian barber shop brings flashback of yesteryears which in many of these years of rushing around tends to remain the blackbox undiscovered. I recently had a good haircut from the traiditonal Indian barber and upon the whiff of the smell of the familiar cologne, brought me back to when I was a little boy and when dad brought me to the Indian barber close to home for what was then a traumatic experience of a haircut.
Funny how it all came back, vivid, of a memory that I thought I had forgotten.

I can even see the shop, the chair, what I wore and how I embarrassingly - not then - cried.
It was like yesterday.

The mind works in mysterious ways.
There are past treasures which we have forgotten that we had.
There are future rewards waiting to be reaped.

Memories, as a record of our past will continue to educate us, at different times with different lessons, as we pass the journey we call life.

If memory can be stored in globes as in Harry Potter, it can be selected whenever.
But seriously, can we? Should we?

Memory is also copyrighted.
It cannot be stolen.
It cannot be shared.
It is yours, and yours only, forever.

If you chance upon reading this, it will now remain as on of those... memories.
Yours.
Forever.