I was in a very nostalgic mood the other day, the kind that paints everything in this kind of warm, ashen tone that makes everything ache just enough to feel real, the kind that makes you look back and realize that it was all worth the smiles and the hardships.
And, so, I went digging for some tangible proof that it had all actually happened, diving head-first into boxes and plastic bins, across jammed drawers and wardrobes whose inner doors still have the "claw" marks of childhood, the...