Childhood memories haunt me from "summary" of Autobiografía de un esclavo by Juan Francisco Manzano
As I sit here, pen in hand, memories of my childhood come flooding back to me like a raging river, unstoppable and overwhelming. They haunt me, these memories of a time long gone but never forgotten. They whisper in my ear, reminding me of the pain and suffering I endured as a young slave in a cruel world. I can still hear the laughter of my fellow slaves, the sound of their voices mingling with the harsh commands of our masters. I can still feel the hot sun beating down on my back as I toiled in the fields, sweat dripping from my brow. I can still taste the bitterness of tears as I cried myself to sleep at night, longing for a freedom that seemed so far out of reach. These memories are like ghosts that follow me wherever I go, shadows that darken even the brightest of days. ...
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