You never know when you will cease having access to the archive of your past. The physical relics of your youth will eventually be lost to you. But memories are fickle, slippery things, like silver mackerel. They go fuzzy around the edges, grainy in the center, like an old photograph and fall from our hands just when we try to firmly grasp them.
the art of memory.
You never know when you will cease having access to the archive of your past. The physical relics of your youth will eventually be lost to you. But memories are fickle, slippery things, like silver mackerel. They go fuzzy around the edges, grainy in the center, like an old photograph and fall from our hands just when we try to firmly grasp them.
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