Things, events, that occupy space yet come to an end when someone dies may make us stop in wonder -- and yet one thing, or an infinite number of things, dies with every man's or woman's death, unless the universe itself has a memory, as theosophists have suggested. In the course of time there was one day that closed the last eyes that had looked on Christ; the Battle of Junin and the love of Helen died with the death of one man. What will die with me the day I die? What pathetic or frail image will be lost to the world?
"The Witness," Jorge Luis Borges
1960
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The blog where we don't speak for ourselves.
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