“You know what I see when I think about the past? A deep, vast ocean. Memories are the fish, I suppose. when I'm wading in the shallows I can reach in and pull one out if I want to. I can hold the memory in my hands, look at it, then drop I back into the water and let it swim away. But the deeper you go, the darker the water becomes. soon you can't see your feet anymore. you can't see the fish either, but you can feel them moving around you, brushing past your legs. Those fish belong out there, in the deep part.”