The magic lantern of his boyhood is similar to the microscope. It enlarges the image it projects. Windows are analogous to the telescope. What appears to be different becomes the same, once the specimen has been stained by time. The clarity of the lens, the keenness of the vision behind it, are trifles by comparison.
Personality is by nature incongruous, being a product of time.
Time, at any given moment, tends to obscure this. To a child, names are magical sounds that precede and then identify objects of reality. The sense of place is never disinterested. Both notions are illusory. The sense of place merely precedes the sense of dislocation.