my knowledge is melting alongside the poles and I’m afraid to unravel what lies beneath the brain, the ice, the human; stones, earth, oblivion.

my first memory is a lie, or a dream, or the most unlikely alternative; real. a vague recollection of unripen apples still hanging from a tree in front of me, and the sun: remarkably cold, causing our breaths to damp lightly and vanish into air. me, in a push chair ...

my first memory is a lie, or a dream, or the most unlikely alternative; real. a vague recollection of unripen apples still hanging from a tree in front of me, and the sun: remarkably cold, causing our breaths to damp lightly and vanish into air. me, in a push chair ...