Omar Ashmouni’s Reviews > The Memory Police > Status Update

It occurred to me suddenly that it was fortunate that the old man had died before the disappearances of the body had begun. That meant that I could still recall the feeling of his dear hand in mine. He had already lost enough as it was, and rather than live on with the expectation of more disappearances, it was easier that he died still in possession of his own body.

"But the arm and leg you see aren't really mine. No matter how much you care for them, they're just shells, empty skin. The real me is disappearing as we speak. Slowly but surely being sucked into thin air."

“He went on encouraging me. In all likelihood he was telling me lies, unwilling to hurt me further and deepen the damage done by the old man's death, but I didn't care. If he was willing to be kind to me, the reason didn't matter.”

“I have always loved his hands, from the time I was a little girl. They could make almost anything: a toy box, a plastic model, a cage for a rhinoceros beetle, a beanbag, a desk lamp, a bicycle seat cover, smoked fish, an apple cake. The knuckles were large and knobby, but his palms were pleasantly soft. One touch of these hands was enough to reassure me that no one was going to hurt me or leave me all alone.”

"Men who start by burning books end by burning other men,"

"But I'd say it's just the opposite. Your heart is doing everything it can to preserve its existence. No matter how many memories these men take away, they'll never reduce it to nothing."