Standing on the side of the hill, just where it slopes into the quarry, it's possible to see where Melanie used to live. I couldn't forget her. Now she seemed to have forgotten everything. She said that not much had happened between us anyway, historically speaking. But history is a string full of knots, the best you can do is admire it, and maybe knot it up a bit more.
History is a hammock for swinging and a game for playing.
A cat's cradle. She said those sorts of feelings were dead, the feelings she once had for me. There is a certain seductiveness about dead things. You can ill treat, alter, and recolour what's dead. It won't complain.