The ​River Leith 2 csillagozás

Memory, as it turned out, was both everything and nothing. It had no substance, no form, no weight, and no color. It was described, in technical terms, as deposits of proteins within cells of the brain. However, these were words that at their heart were as mysterious and ultimately magical as any other metaphor used in an attempt to understand the concept: memory as a storehouse or set of books—a way to keep track of life’s checks and balances; or memory as meaning—a mode of life, and a way of being.

Memory is the sum of us, the total, and if it is divided, then we are lost.

“It isn’t just time or memories that I’m missing. I feel like I’ve lost who I am. Like, there’s this feeling that I’m a big, human-shaped lump of clay, and I’m somewhere inside it if I could just dig myself out. But I can’t remember who that person is supposed to be anymore.”

Time was like a river, and memory was a current. Time flowed on without ceasing, no matter what or who tried to get in its way. But memory was changeable, and even losable. Like a current it could carry a person far away from their starting point, leaving them somewhere they might never have intended to be.

And yet there it was, that feeling he couldn’t shake. It was like a pull against his skin, something constant and ever present, as though it was part of him down to his cells, an emotion strong and compelling and rooted without logic. It was something he could only name as love.

And it's hard because every time I see him, I want to kiss him and touch him the way I used to, but I can't. I don't even mean sex. It's everything else that I miss so much more. Things like…how soft his hair felt when I mussed it, and the way he smelled, and the rumble of his voice in his chest when I lay with my head on it at night…

Sometimes it took divine courage to let go and end up in an ocean of the unknown.