Says the American tourist with a fine sense of irony. Footnote to a more involved conversation that meant nothing. So why mention it? Because it happened. And I forget my life, even in the moment that it passes me by. So what else happened? Close your eyes, take a breath, remember this moment orever. And remember the next moment, the one that'll take all of the hopes we have now, and either dash them to the floor, or give us glory forever. And thent ry to remember the subject you began with. The remembrance of my life. So I said the other night, 'I don't know why I'm here, for in a week's time I'll have forgotten it all.' Which is partially true. I'll remember the general story, but not the details, and then have simply a sketchbook and some photos I didn't want to take to remind me. So if life really about the stories you can tell? Or is it more the summary of everything you've ever done that makes you 'you'?
And why do I care so much?
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For when your words don't mean a thing...
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