I drop secrets around the world with different friends. Each of them hold pieces of me that I've forgotten until gentle nudges return the next time we meet again. It is as though they give me little slips of papers with shared memories written on them that I only get reminded of after years, weeks or days.

There's the awkward memory of short haircuts and nerdy glasses. There's the laugh out loud memories of chickens whispering hot hot biscuits into cow ears during math class. There's the days in schools and KL-eer stories. There's lunches behind old libraries and lockers with padlocks thrown at annoying boys.

That's what friends are for.