You said once how memories also recall other memories, that is,
moments of remembering particular events, spaces, in turn become
memorable, contributing to an accumulation of details overlaid; memories
that in fact produce their own memories. Phantasm. A recurring melody
that begins to take on a life of its own, that echoes until the original
soon dissipates, unfixed by a repeating continuation. Such echoes
become their own body; a body ahead of and behind this one; steps that suddenly haunt my own, and that dislocate and displace the certainty of being here.
There.
Nowhere.
A new itinerary.
-Brandon LaBelle, Handbook for the Itinerant
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