“I will have spent my life trying to understand the function of remembering, which is not the opposite of forgetting, but rather its lining. We do not remember; we rewrite memory much as history is rewritten. How can one remember thirst?”
When I sleep, I often see the feet kicking and thrashing at my eye level as I kneel in wet sand.As the legs calm down, I sink faster, and a pressure grows in my head creating a background whine like distant machinery.The sand creeps and sucks past my thighs I feel myself leaning forwards and the noise causes my eyeballs to vibrate, so I cannot see anything except, in sharp focus, a perfectly still pair of shoes.
When I wake up, I’ve kicked the duvet across the room, and I am contorted as though violently thrown from a car accident.
Lying on the bank, I stare up…
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