I'm not quiet sure what possesses me to do it; trolling memory-boneyards for the ghosts of the past. Curiosity, perhaps. That curiosity that has either gotten me into loads of trouble or lead to, at least, some interesting adventures. It's a flip of a cosmic coin and a roll of the bones as to the outcome.
Sometimes, it just happens. The lark. The curiosity. I start with a scrap of name and begin searching. It is said curiosity can kill a cat, but if the cat has more than one life, why should it fear a single death?
The whole time, I ask myself why. Wonder what the exercise is going to accomplish. I do not like to dance with the dead. I have no desire to encounter these specters within the realms of the flesh. There are reasons these things lie burned and buried.
Perhaps it is a matter of perspective and security; finding where they are in relation to me. It helps affirm a sort of likelihood of whether or not a fleshbound encounter might ever happen. Therein lies the illusion of security. But then the harsh reality sets in; if I can find them, then, quite obviously, they might just be able to find me, and that is a humbling realization as well as a harsh backfist of perspective.