Memory is fallible.
Every time you access a memory you change it.
To retain a memory you must access it often.
The more vividly you remember a long-ago event the less
accurate that memory is.
The passion then that became your being is therefore now more
metaphor than substance.
True only as metaphors are true.
True only as metaphors are true.
If the goal is an accurate account of an event, recording
works best. You can put it down just then and put it away and never think about
it--until, years later, you stumble upon your image of this forgotten time and
read it like a story, one you feel you may have read before, recalling each line as
it emerges, unable to anticipate what’s next, as though the account you are
reading is of something that happened to someone else.
Which it is.
It is always the destiny of history to be resurrected
as story.