It's a pleasure to share one's memories. Everything remembered is dear, endearing, touching, precious. At least the past is safe-though we didn't know it at the time. We know it now. Because it's in the past; because we have survived.
Hey is that my reflection?
Don't look at me! I don't want to babysit!
I knew I should have listened to Bulma. . .these briefs don't fit right. . .
If Pan keeps moving around up there she is going to break my neck!
