Deja vu

The second time I stood at the clothesline pinning up hankies I recalled with satisfaction the piece I had just written. Not like the first time I stood there, wearing the same clothes, feeling the same pleasant breeze, pinning up the same hankies under the same sunny sky, frowning slightly because the piece wasn’t quite right, it lacked the finesse I sought.

Is that what deja vu is, a glimpse at the things we have done correctly when they could have gone differently?

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