Ayahuasca works for my memory in probably opposite way than cannabis. Years into that relationship I am still amazed when new pathways open, new vistas, when mouldy, dusty corners I never even expected to visit start to shine with eerie clarity, and my attention, without any specific will, intention or logical train of thought leading me there, goes to random, very specific, very detailed moments of my life, places, people. I am not talking here just about significant events, like favourite of psychotherapy, trauma, or turning points, things that gave my life meaning. At least not in rational sense, because after all, maybe meaning is in those insignificant details, hair of the dog, light in branches, one specific piss taken in dark alley of Delhi slums. It is literally that clear, like a zoom into arm tattoo of someone I have been chatting with 10 years ago. It all has dream quality about the way my mind arrives at certain sight, “in-sight” to be precise, but it is no illusion at all, very factual, very true. It is even often verifiable, if I reach into deep contents of my photo archive, at some periods built day after a day of documenting of what I saw and experience, now, if humidity does not destroy it, waiting there, with precise EXIF of date and hour, ready to be accessed thanks to modern technology just like it is ready to access in my brain’s hard drive thanks to the ancient technology of the vine.

So here go some snapshots of my memory.