Those Words

I woke up this morning with a sharp remembering.  I had forgotten.

Once the walls of my bedroom were tessellated thick with books, pictures, paintings, ephemera and words.  Once, that now empty space between the picture rail and the ceiling was filled with hand-written quotes I had lovingly gathered, captured, set down.

I would go to sleep with them and wake up with them before my eyes.

Where are my quotes and words now?  What was it they told me?

Comments

[Dave Ph]

They told you who you were, who you wanted to be.

This is one reason the Singularity is so much b0ll0x: without forgetting, there can be no remembering. Without forgetting who we once used to want to be, we have no way of being suprised at how good an us we have become.

For carefully selected values of 'us', of course.