Sometimes where you’re going is pretty much where you’ve been.
Or the place you see is part of an illusion real enough to stop you for a moment to sort things out. A dream about dreaming. That sort of thing.
Always, though, there is that narcissistic fascination with what one sees in a reflection. “Is that me? Was I ever so young/thin/good-looking/cool?”
I wonder what I did with that sweater? I bought it in Greece, and it was the warmest thing I ever put on my body. And it itched like hell! Seriously, what’s past is past, I’ve been there before.
I think I can speak to something about where a person has been: :A person can never return to a place where he or she has never been.”
How true! And where one’s been never is the same once experienced. [At this point, smoke burst from his ears, and he vowed never to think again! 😉 ]
And on the same note, one can never visit a place that idoesn’t exist. And if he or she can ever . . . by some miraculous means . . . get to such a place, then there is no way of proving having been there.
Or: One can never really get farther than one is able to go.
Take a picture, then blame the camera when it doesn’t turn out…!
True!