Status Updates From Message from the Shadows: S...

[They were] there to speak with the famous poet, practically an old man now, who, in his youth was bellicose, ferocious, but then his will bent to events, to life, his ferocity turned to sarcasm and disappointment, and when it came to battles, he'd developed the skepticism of one who'd fought and lost and now believed the fight was in vain.

You know, my son, he went on, you can go ahead and tell your memories to others, they’re eager to listen to your account and perhaps they get everything, even the smallest nuances, but that memory will still be yours and yours alone, it doesn’t become someone else’s memory just because you’ve told it to others, memories are told but not transmitted.

It was a slender hope, perhaps an illusion, and I didn’t want to consume it in the short space of a plane flight; I preferred to cradle and savour it in a leisurely fashion, as we like to do with hopes that we cherish while knowing there is little chance of their realisation.

Sometimes it’s only in a dream that we glimpse a plausible solution. Perhaps because reason is fearful; it can’t fill the gaps and achieve completeness, which is a form of simplicity; it prefers complexity, with all its gaps, and so the will entrusts the solution to dreams.

Read one story. I think it was good but I was asleep. Too busy to read.