April 13th

I think these bars are probably for bikes. But at this moment, there are none to be seen here. I think they might be sad, to know your usefulness and to not be seen.

I know how they feel. I put my bag down and try to sit on one of them. It’s a bit clumsy and not very comfortable, but I try for as long as I can to make them feel better. I think forgotten things need to help each other. Let each other know that something remembers you.

I’m trying to remember what I’ve forgotten about. It’s sort of like the forbidden fruit – for centuries people have attempted to figure out what such a fruit was. Adam and Eve must have described in more detail what this fruit was! And yet, people forgot. How could you forget something so important? 

Three months before I left, my uncle Meilech told me that the forbidden fruit was a citrone. I don’t believe that.

I pick my bag back up, double checking the front pocket to make sure it’s still in there. Leather straps connected to the box I have felt so many times before. Good.

I hope these bars aren’t for bikes; I hope they’re for nothing at all. I hope they’re like me – ghosts, elusive and yet desperate to be remembered. Actually I’ve been thinking recently that someone is trying to remember me – I’ve been looking for them too. But I’m not sure what I would do if I found them. 

Maybe we’ll share a clementine.