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Because Mid-Meal, My Mother Says “Now Don’t Write About This”; Or, The Tyranny of We photo

The memoirist can say, We walked along the beach.

Or perhaps, We ran.

We moved to Chicago.

We were late to the concert.

We had two peaches left in the basket.

But to write We thought is a fiction.

We always felt that…the moment you write this phrase, you have lied.

A thought cannot be unanimous across multiple bodies.

We all love it when—Nope.

There are inflections, differences, doubts.  


image: Tim States