What I cannot understand is why it selects what it does. I am a chronicler of absence. In just remembering - that is all. How we remember, what we remember, and why we remember form the most personal map of our individuality. The hills of one's youth are all mountains.
Memories are like corks left out of bottles.
They no longer fit. The irony of life is not that you cannot forget but that you can. Use of this site constitutes acceptance of our User Agreement Please read our Privacy Policy and Disclaimer .