Listen! And but how the story changes, back from the way it was told before, back then when it happened the first time. All the way to the quilt draped over a quilt draped over a historical object that is given today, in the books, told today in the school lessons of USA children, narrated in action films where lots of stuff gets blown up, today.
It goes like this: In the 3rd month of human female pregnancy, the foetus that has been growing is, in an instant, imbued with the consciousness of all things past, mis-narrated past, present, probable future - all possible forks in every moment of agency concentrated to one single timeless point.
It is then that the Goldsmith descends from the antechamber, BOPS! the foetus on the crown, knocking it out of its oceanic suspended animation, and erasing its memory of all things. The baby takes its first step (as far as it knows) into line-time. It then becomes the optional task of the born human being to go about collecting experiences and recovering memories. This is hard work, filled with pain that deepens as time continues to move in a line, back to front.
At the end of a life span in line-time, there is no guarantee of personal possession. There is no certainty that in the 3rd minute before life ends, the Goldsmith won’t descend again from the antechamber, and BOP! Erased go the collected memories, the myriad crystalline clusters of associations, erased and gone with a single BOP!
Why does the Goldsmith with all the crown BOPPING? Who’s are the memories that get collected, who owns them? Are they destroyed or merely inaccessible to born babies once BOPPED on the head?
Nobody knows. There is no guarantee.
...and but Perhaps in this story that once was a different story, it is with faith why we collect experiences and convert them into memories. and Could it be it is this sense type of faith that suggests to us that while individual identities and personalities may not get to own or keep experiences, as ecstatic or tortured or unique or banal as they may have been, they are not deleted. They can be found, recovered, utilized for purposes currently unrecognized. Even without certainty, we collect and work and experience and remember until we can no longer - an archeology of mind.
Is that how it is? Is it with faith that we Endorse?
Not Blood Paint