The Art of Forgetting

Skylark — Fri, 02 Dec 2011 09:47:31 +0000

And when she found something completely unbearable, she simply forgot it. That was her greatest power, forgetting. For nothing in the world can trouble you once it no longer exists, and what is the past but a selection of memories? Carefully edited and imbued with the light of forgotten summers. She had nearly drowned once, when she was six, or at least so people told her. She couldn’t remember it, however hard she tried. Only when her toes curled over the edge of the swimming pool did a faintness come over her, the afterglow of a forgotten fear.
It worked for people too. She had discovered this long ago, the delicate art of dismissal. The cutting out of a figure from one’s life, with neat precision and the edges sewn up so they would hardly be missed. She dreamt of them sometimes, and the shadows they had left behind, but you wouldn’t know it. She was awfully good at making things disappear.

Shadow

Skylark — Thu, 21 Jan 2010 03:45:57 +0000

This is my shadow, she has a name but I can’t tell it to you or you could steal her away and then I would have to wear iron shoes. I keep her in a drawer most of the time, with a brass lock, as polite people do, but sometimes she gets out, usually when I’m hurt or broken or lost and she thinks terrible things. She thinks dissapointment and doubt, she thinks fear and anger and she knows how to hate. They tell me we all have shadows. Some people wear theirs like a trench coat and that makes them scary. I fold mine up, when I leave the house, and tuck her in to my shoe. That way, I can pull her out when I need her. You can’t enjoy a good moonrise without your shadow.

The Lost Princess » shadows

The Art of Forgetting

Shadow