memory [Theme] Page 3

The memory of society is organized according to the animal principle; no one will remember about deeds committed under the cover of darkness in the morning.

Growing up...

in a half-whisper... in the transparency of the feathers, the veins of time glow with light... it is memory that flows through them... the sun of all days... the moonlight of all nights... the moisture of rain... every moment in the light we clearly hear the infinity of life... .this heart beats... until the last breath it lives and breathes with love...

- But you can't stop him. He always comes back. Fire is a servant of nature. Your judge and your savior!

Tomorrow Today will become yesterday,

- Well, congratulate me! I'm already in Voronezh!

Life is on fire, burning alive.

Who would have thought that it is memories that create a person. Without them, we are not us at all. You have to wander in the dark, not understanding where and why you are going.

These seven numbers, scribbled in thick felt-tip pen, would only pull me back into what I was meant to be free of.

Just two years ago, one telephone conversation forever changed all subsequent "How are you?". It was one of those conversations that leaves memory ink on your fingers for a long time. I learned to beware of such conversations that you remember everything about - where you stood, what you were wearing ... These conversations become part of you. Like a second skin.

I loved playing the part where if you leave for a while, pictures and little trinkets will be waiting for you when you return. I'm not even trying to say it like an egotist. I just want to be needed. I want to be the kind of person you can miss if something happens and life changes and I'm no longer around.

She wrote on the back of the cover, "Promise you'll never forget me, because if I think you'll forget me, I'll never leave." One day we found this quote in the hostel, carved into an old wooden bunk. And, alas, she lost some of her value for us when we found out that Piglet was the first to say these words to Winnie the Pooh.

Have a nice flight everyone!

You know, none of those who were adults when I was a child remained alive. So as a child, I'm dead. Someday, in forty years, there will be no one alive who ever knew me at all. That's when I'll die for real - when I no longer exist in anyone's memory. I thought a lot about the fact that some very old person is the last person alive who remembers another person or a whole circle of people. When this person dies, this whole circle also disappears from living memory. I asked myself, who will be the last person whose death will make me completely dead?