Memory is a slippery thing is it not. The older I get the more I am faced with the fuzzy edges and complete blanks of thousands of recent and not so recent moments of my life.
One of my favourite ways to dust off a memory and hold it tightly in my mind’s eye, if only for a little while, is to look at the books and CDs from my past.
A glance at the cover of an old book can convey a hundred tiny details. The seat you sat on in the bus when the dog died unexpectedly in House of the Spirits and you struggled not to sob.
The pages of Patrick Suskind’s Perfume bringing to life the 20 year old you who was so painfully in love with he who gave you the book.
The swollen pages of a Malcolm Gladwell bringing you back to a post-pool read on a sunlounge in Bali with your children’s ages cemented in a beautiful time as they squirmed next to you, begging to be let back in the pool.
And the signed CD from a friend of a friend who was in a (not great!) band when you were 19 and who remembered seeing you in a red suit in Martin Place a year before you met him.
Would I stumble upon these memories as easily if I didn’t have the physical memento; would they be lost in the minutiae of my everyday life……. and never seen again?
What will be the Memory of a life: digital edition?