You don't look back along time but down through it, like water. Sometimes this comes to the surface, sometimes that, sometimes nothing. Nothing goes away.

“The sky darkens from ultramarine to indigo. God bless the namers of oil paints …”

“I wasn't even sure I wanted a man in my life again; by that time I'd exhausted …”

“But unshed tears can turn rancid. So can memory. So can biting your tongue. My …”

“[Northrop] Frye was concerned mostly with literary criticism, and myths interes…”