An old man who never forgets sits on his porch and watches as passersby pass him by and time follows closely behind. He used to perch himself atop the crest of a hill and take in the scenery, but his bones are too old to make the climb now. Now he just sits on his porch, remembering.
He could have settled somewhere else more suitable for his desired mode of life, and as long as he thinks this way, he must avoid death so as not to be buried with his regrets. He is old but he still has lessons to learn. He still has demons in his head and a closet teeming with skeletons.
Enmity is not the remedy, he knows. Searching for the solution leaves him in confusion and the deliberation leaves him debilitated.
He is not who he once was, but he remembers. Oh yes, he remembers.
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