“So, when I wake in the morning, I never get out of bed until I have wrung what I can from my memory.

I try to go back to babyhood; I have managed to remember as far back as my days in a carriage. Sights and smells come back to me: the touch of my mother’s hands, her voice, my father’s face, his voice, his hands, the shape and feel and every bit of my parents’ physical selves…

I try to live in the moment of memory. The past stays alive even in the present. I have no knowledge of the exact mechanism of remembering, but it has become an integral part of my life and my writing.” Continue Reading on LITERARY HUB

This was also shared on BREVITY’s Nonfiction Blog