The Past Is An Oval-Shaped Puddle

When I consider the places I have lived the first glimpse of all things that have passed spreads out before me such that everything I have done, everybody I have known and every thing I have seen is an oval shaped puddle of rainbow colours, rather than a linear tract down into the soil of memory with the journey sporadically revealing more. The puddle then, albeit a fleeting image, reveals everything in the past as being made of the same juice. This manifests by the next glimpse being such that the search,let's say for the places I have lived, unveils only one house, a giant mansion of diverse rooms or if the search is of people I have known only one person appears, a person with multi personalities and splendidly diverse facial features. I could go on.