In every musical there’s a song called Me and What I Tried to Do. This is according K’s friend, a Broadway composer. When K told me this, I said, “That’s not just true of shows but people.”
Then I wondered what other songs there are.
This reminds me: someone once said that all songs are love songs. I couldn’t remember if this someone was me, so I looked it up online. It wasn’t me.
One day, when I lose what memory I have, I will believe I made up everything, only I won’t be able to remember any of it.
This may sound like a punishment meted out by a Greek god, something like what they did to Sisyphus or Prometheus or even chatty Echo (who was sentenced to speak only the last word spoken to her), but I actually think I’ll enjoy it.
Been there, done that, whatever it was.
A man signs a shovel and so he digs.
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