part of their memory

‘The woods are full of wild anemones now, shall we go? (..) I said wild anemones, flowers, hundreds and thousands of wild flowers all over the ground under the trees all the way up to the gazebo. They have no smell but they have a presence just like a perfume and quite as obsessive, I shall remember them all my life.
     Are you going somewhere Darling?
     Yes, going to the woods.
     Then why do you say you will remember them all your life?
     Because you are part of their memory and you are going to disappear, the anemones are going to blossom eternally, we are not.’


‘You may not believe in magic but something very strange is happening at this very moment. Your head has dissolved into thin air and I can see the rhododendrons through your stomach. It's not that you are dead or anything dramatic like that, it is simply that you are fading away and I can't even remember your name. I remember your white flannels better than I can remember you. I remember all the things I felt about the white flannels but whoever made them walk about has totally disappeared.’

Leonora Carringtons protagonist in The Hearing Trumpet weet dat ze niet is waar ze voelt dat ze is maar dat is geen probleem. Ze bedenkt het terwijl het gebeurt & uiteindelijk, weet ze, zal dit alles verdwijnen. Dat neemt echter niet weg dat ze de anemonen haar leven lang niet zal vergeten, de bloemen die keer op keer zullen bloeien, altijd terug zullen keren terwijl zij zelf zal verdwijnen, ooit, voorgoed; zoals wij allen ooit zullen verdwijnen. Maar, die mooiste gedachte: you are part of their memory.

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