Reading very old fics is like reading your old diary: occasionally embarrassing but also occasionally uplifting. At least for me. For every "Oh god, the prose in this is veering toward imperial purple" there's a quiet "wow, that was a really nice turn of phrase". And then there are the paragraphs I have no memory whatsoever of writing. They're usually ones I find good, so the strangeness doubles: it's like someone I don't know scribbled five or six lines in the middle of the story when my figurative back was turned.

The past really is a foreign country, but sometimes you have a faded map.
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