Memory is t beravel time -- it is t lose our ure t and from co grimaces es matics but o listen to screaming. quot;tropic roric of t;, . Madame Scimes at nigo augment make any more noise.
Memory, origin of narrative; memory, barrier against oblivion; memory, repository of my being, te filaments of myself I ime into a spiders o catc as I can. In t of my self-spun , in ty of my self-possession. Or so I would, if I could.
Because my memory is undergoing a sea-cain I remember, I am no longer sure is I remember nor, indeed, t.
Everyday, t attempts to erase tapes from my memory. ed a complex system of forgetting. Altely assert reet, I knoion is no more t, paltry line of defence against terations of t. ed in me a set of pseudo-memories, all of o a dreadful confusion so t, taining tuality of turn to me ified experience. All of them.
Dear god, all of them.
Remembering is t stage of absolute forgetfulness, says t Count, ed into a fugue of all t in ts small birds sucs a o s t like t otravagant tastes as s. Suses from laboratories; sion of ter, s lick it off for , she says.
t comes personally to t o give us our lessons. caress. t believes ted evolution, tivorous beast t lives in s, most entropic of substances, and consumes its o gets he chance.
Like time, says t; like time.
time, whe enemy of memory.
t is very mucure.
I descended at dusk from a train on lit only by one greenisle; its pair, on tc see my oion in it, ered t of autumn, an unpeopled landscape, flat, erlogged, dotted ilated rain at t lonely as nigtered face came to take my ticket and, a single le tin trunk for me out of tation to a sside, a ss ss, a starveling pony s drab, glossless coat. On t sat a to my s all. I started back; but tation master grabbed my forced me into the door on me.
As t began painfully to drag t of til t ag moment, Id spent ty-took tation master, pressed in fare transformed by a sudden rus glee to a mask of p