Fragmented recollections
Today is the day on which, some 19 years ago, that dear hulking dorm neighbour of mine was delivered into the world, a great (great, great) deal smaller than he is now. Today is also the day I scattered little green post-it clues all around our residence, campus and even the web, to lead him eventually to a present under his own bed.
Later, there was cake, strawberries and merriment. Thus was my Thursday.
Your life is nothing but those fragmented memories lodged inside your skull, pieced together by some misguided sense of continuation. Sometimes people write them down, and that's called history.
Also, also. If to resurrect is to bring back to life, then surrect is a synonym of live. QED.
And now I must vise my Spanish infinitives.