Wednesday, June 20, 2007


The sense of smell may be the most immediate and reliable conduit to memory, but a combination of any of the other four runs a close second. Walking towards work this morning beneath the trees in the direction of the rising sun, the leafy branches shielding me from her heat, a strong breeze whipped itself into a frenzy and pushed some of the leftover moisture from the previous evening's rain onto my skin. A torrent of feeling came rushing back. Yet, though reawakened by a real physical event, one we've all experienced to some degree, those dormant feelings were the product of so many daytime reveries; even if populated with real places and real people, do they qualify as legitimate memory?

They're certainly false, they never occured in any dimensional sense, a measureable, quantifiable experience on this planet; they never happened. But I remember, nonetheless. Perhaps not the madeleine itself, soft on a spoonful of tea, but the hard crumbs that careened off the edge of the cup onto the hardwood table. I see them. They do indeed exist. I don't want to brush them away just yet, for they are more vital than what passes for real.

1 comment:

Freida Bee said...

I just might get your imaginary drift here, if it does, in fact, exist. Actually, it is more real, than the words I see themselves.