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The earliest birthday I remember is my fourth; I remember blowing out the candles on my cake, the thrill of tearing the wrapping paper off the presents. Thereβs no video of the event, but there are snapshots in the family album, and they are consistent with what I remember. In fact, I suspect I no longer remember the day itself. Itβs more likely that I manufactured the memory when I was first shown the snapshots, and over time, Iβve imbued it with the emotion I imagine I felt that day. Little by little, over repeated instances of recall, Iβve created a happy memory for myself.
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