" We cannot live except by forgetting, any more than we can sense some stimuli except by ignoring others; just imagine if you could sense every thing in its own thisness all the time, from the smallest flutter in your lungs to every single point of light entering your eyes. History - a word whose journey into English followed the same path as archive, only earlier, and which originally meant inquiry - works like our perceptual apparatus, whose seeing is enabled by our blindnesses, by focussing on one thing or set of things to the exclusion of others. That is why there can be no one history, only histories, and these can never be complete, ever."(Canadian Literature |History and Archives: Sextet*)
:: note ::
. . . archive . . . a space to forget . . . personal history . . . a blind inquiry . . . each year relentless in its oblivion . . . my son gave me Gilgamesh
this christmas . . . who looked into the abyss . . . and yet my most cherished scene was meeting Utnapishtim across the Waters of Death . . .