Every Kokiri has the same memories.
They would all remember the lush green foliage from whence they were born, basking in sunlight with its motherly branches spread to all parts. They would all recall the gentle breeze of forest wind, winding its way greeting everyone it met. Then they would all think about the playful trickle of fresh streams, the fragrant smell of flowers, and the colorful leaves of the trees. And the cheerful songbirds, singing above them all through days and nights.
In short, they would all memorize the same thing: the pure unspoilt Kokiri Forest that they proudly call home.
But for a Kokiri called Myst, his memories of his home are not the same.
He would still recall the name Kokiri Forest, and recall it truly with longing desire. But instead of lush green foliage protecting him with love, what he remembers are barren branches of blackened woods, their skeletal fingers grasping the misty sky. What he remembers is a stinking forest wind, slithering through the woods in whispers and moans. Instead of trickling fresh streams he remembers a stagnant flow of heavy black fluid, in place of flowers and colorful leaves are venomous plants and thorny vines, and instead of cheerful songs of birds, a deathly gawk from birds of prey.
That is the Kokiri Forest which Myst calls his home.
But whether this visage was real or occurred only in his head, no one knows for sure, since if anyone asked about him he would tell a moving story of his own abduction. A sad and emotional saga from his mysterious displacement when he was playing near a tree, to his stranding on a war-torn lands where a great warlord waged war, to his necessary drafting to a foreign legion from where he obtained his strange clothing, and stuffed in it for so long that he freaked when not wearing it, to his planted belief of the populace in keeping their hair long, and finally to his daring escape through a smuggling ship, free and desperate to be home, from where he found his way to Kokiri Forest again.
He could not possibly forget the forest, so well-placed in a map he knew by heart.
But what Myst did not understand, was that this forest did not feel like home at all.
...at least that is what he believes.