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Object Permanence

I am descendant from Eastern European Jewish gypsies. In my mind's eye, my ancestors travelled from town to town selling their wares, mostly tea and spices, and performing impromptu theatre wherever they turned in. They took to the well-beaten paths with their donkeys and carts. They saw the beauty and prosperity in the land on which they travelled; the sweeping plains, the green forests, the frosted winters, the pollen-filled springs. They needed nothing more than each other and their ingenuity to make each day memorable. The romantic idealisation of their lives most probably falls a long way from the truth. And yet, generations on, my family has persisted with the one essential trait of our kin. We move.

Perception is a funny thing. As infants, we struggle to believe an object exists when it is no longer in front of us. A toy leaves the room and ceases to be. It's hard to miss something that doesn't exist anymore. As we grow older, we learn that the caregiver who has le…

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