A manifestation of eternity, and a sign of death as well. The light of memory, or rather the light that memory lends to things, is the palest light of all. . . . I am not quite sure whether I am dreaming or remembering, whether I have lived my life or dreamed it. Just as dreams do, memory makes me profoundly aware of the unreality, the evanescence of the world, a fleeting image in the moving water. For me, it is as though at every moment the actual world had completely lost its actuality.
Nothing holds together, everything falls apart.