Where is memory kept? Is it in the cognitive faculties of the brain? The deep, shadowy recesses of the mind? Or is it the heart?
My memory feels like it is formed on a beach.
When I was younger, my memory was traced in the soft, golden sand, with the good and the bad eventually getting washed away by the inevitable turning of the tide.
As I grow older, my memory seems to grow farther and farther away from the sea, and etched in the rocky parts of the shore. High tide washes in, and covers the area with detritus, or even lost jewels of the past. But the memories remain indelibly buried underneath, only to return when there is nothing there to hide them.
Perhaps one day they'll be eroded by weathering.
What'll that be? Alzheimer's disease?
A chronicle of nose growth
'...changing the form of one's mission's almost as difficult as changing the shape of one's nose:
they are, each, in the middle of one's face and one's character - one has to begin too far back.'
― Henry James. The Portrait of a Lady.
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