perspective

"We imagine that we remember things as they are, while in fact all we carry into the future are fragments which reconstruct a wholly illusory past. The first death we witness will always be a murmur of voices down a corridor and a clock falling silent in the darkened room, the end of love is forever two cigarettes in a saucer and a white door closing." - John Banville, "Birchwood"

I realize that I really don't see everyone totally, at all. When I try to remember a moment, it is always a fragment of a picture: a wrinkle in a corner of the eye, a chicken pox mark on the upper lip, a bruise in the hand. It's as if the lens of my thoughts are always closing in, zeroing in on a detail that may have no significance at all in the grand scheme of things.

I could not, try as I might, remember the face.