I always had too much memory
I can describe in detail places, the weather, the mood of 20 years ago. My friends are surprised, they who can hardly even remember the very special events in their lives. Details ivade me, I go over it all. My friends slowly tire of all my regrets; I am not good company. Especially because for some time, the shadow that follows me is not mine. It is much smaller and lighter and sometimes I can hear it whispering, laughing, telling me stories or even whine a bit when I move too fast and it is tired. I really believe that I regognize this shadow. I talk whith it and only it pleases me. I get the feeling the world is slowly moving away and soon it will only be my shadow friend and me. There will come a day when I will no longer be able to stand, we think that day will never come but it is not always because of old age. Far away from the pack, my words will glide over the smooth bodies of others, we will no longer understand each other and I will already be long gone. In the crowd which I never liked, I will feel even less apt at elbowing out a place for myself. I’ll slide down the slope. In the wind, under the tree, it is ashes that will flow over my hands. The screen of the world will show films in an unknown dialect, the images will be unfamiliar to me and emotionally empty. No tears in my eyes which no longer want to see neither beauty nor ugliness, neither the insipid nor tragedy, nothing will ever resemble what I loved because I love no more.