Perhaps memory is simply imagination with evidence.
Fragments
Not finished. Kept anyway.
Aphorisms, overheard lines, dreams, questions, and beginnings that never found their second sentence.
Some gods die when you stop believing in them. Others finally become interesting.
Overheard, outside a hospital: <em>“He was never any good at Tuesdays.”</em> Nobody laughed. Everybody understood.
Nothing happened. It changed everything.
A dream in which I was given a house with one more room than the house had. I spent the whole dream in the corridor, being polite about it.
We call it a life story as though the shape were decided in advance and we were only supplying the sentences.
Discarded opening: <em>By the time the second letter arrived, the town had already agreed on what it would mean.</em>
Grief is love continuing to arrive at an address that has closed.
The universe is not indifferent. Indifference requires a position.
Question I have not been able to put down: what is the smallest number of people who have to remember you for it to count?
Every civilisation believes it is the balcony from which history is watched.
He apologised in the tense usually reserved for weather.
Light from a dead star is still light. This is either a consolation or a warning and I have used it as both.
Wrote nothing today. Kept the desk anyway. The desk is doing most of the work.