Wednesday, February 10, 2010

We knew all about phantom limbs long before World War II came along and gave us enough victims to make a scientific fact out of it. Ahab felt it, growling about his wooden leg on the deck of the Pequod. We always knew that what was missing sometimes still felt like it was there, that all of our body is part of our brain. That all of our body is part of the past.

I wonder about our brains full of boxes, memories unfiled and nibbled through by mice, found again only when we pass by chance a tree that smells familiar or a jukebox playing the wrong song. About how the cracks between our fingers get larger when we're not looking and let the smaller parts fall through, leaving behind us a breadcrumb trail of raised eyebrows and impatiently tapping feet and the most secret of smiles.

I can't say for sure how we got from there to here, but I bet that with a lamp and a little bit of time we could follow our own trails back and remember everything, piece by piece. I think that in the end, we'd find ourselves somewhere new.

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