Memory is where we have arrived rather than where we have left. ...In other words, memory is produced over time and under erasure.
― Julia Creet
I see myself in this young girl relishing the escape and enjoyment that reading brings. But my memories of what I read and how it affected me back then are probably not very reliable. As Victoria Chang put it, memory gets up and starts walking when something has passed. But does it matter if those pleasurable memories aren't exact? I don't think so, as long as I don't get stuck wishing for their return and forget to enjoy the present. I'll take joy wherever I can find it. Octopus stinkhorn is also known as devil's fingers; it oozes with a sludge that smells like rotting flesh. It's easy to see how this mushroom could be judged by its appearance and odor. But this stinkhorn is not toxic; its ooze is simply to attract flies in order to distribute its spores. Sometimes memories are not so pleasurable to relive, but they may reveal more about who we are now than our history. In those instances, it may be wise to remember the words of Mandana Chaffa: "There are many filters to our memories: who we are now, who we were when they were formed, the necessarily limited perspectives that each of us have, buffeted by context, environment, and the unreliability of our narration."
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