For what is a person without memories? A ghost, trapped between worlds, without an identity, with no future, no past.

Moments in time when the world is changing bring out the best and the worst in people.

To have memories, happy or sorrowful, is a blessing, for it shows we have lived our lives without reservation.

Accept that there are things in this world we can never explain and life will be understandable. That is the irony of life. It is also the beauty of it.

For what is a person without memories? A ghost, trapped between worlds, without an identity, with no future, no past.

Time is eating away my memory. Time, and this illness, this trespasser in my brain.

Memories I had locked away have begun to break free, like shards of ice fracturing off an arctic shelf. In sleep, these broken floes drift toward the morning light of remembrance.