When I was younger I gave little thought to maintaining myself, keeping track of myself, keeping myself together, because I had no idea that I was dissolving, and that I would find, thirty, twenty, fifteen years later, that this younger self was an apparition, familiar to me because we shared memories, but otherwise increasingly, unknown. I should have written everything down, is one thing I think today, is one thing, in fact, I write down, but maybe seeing my younger self on paper would have increased my distance from her. Maybe it would have embarrassed me, and made me turn away. In any case, part of younger self’s charm, don’t you think, is that she hadn’t yet thought of these things? That she was so dreamy? That she imagined life as something that would happen to her, and that she imagined she would drift through this happening and find herself essentially unchanged on the other side?