This is the stuff of nightmares (1)

Leafing through my notebooks from three or four years back, I feel a certain vertigo in recognising in their pages the self I once was, and which however hard I may try, I cannot reconcile with the self I conceive myself to be today. All history is lost to us; our personal histories in a grander, more tragic scale. Sometimes it feels as if I … Continue reading This is the stuff of nightmares (1)