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3 Memories of the Future: A Leak and the Edgy Etonian
In the great scheme of things — and I like the expression ‘great scheme of things’: it suggests both that there is a scheme to begin with, and that it is great — my disorientation of this Tuesday morning is not grave. It is still Tuesday, I assume, though I haven’t checked, but there is no reason to believe that it isn’t, except perhaps for the time-space discontinuation that my being here at the Limonlu Bahçe now implies, if in fact Tuesday it still is.
I boarded a train at Clapham Junction 08:26 and it is now roughly half past eleven. The burger, as expected, was delicious. I don’t suffer from amnesia, at least not as far as I can remember. Ker-ching.
Italicising.
One word paragraphs. Short sentences, more so still long.
What confounds me is a memory of the future; I’m aware it’s a memory because that’s what it feels like and it’s how it constructs itself, in layers, like a relief or part of a sculpture that has age-old dust cautiously blown or brushed off it, and I’m certain it’s of the future because I have no recollection of it in the past, and since I’m not suffering from amnesia I would know if I had.
There’s a leak making itself known in my neighbour’s ceiling which has not been explained. It’s been there for a week now and it first showed…
