"Memory is the seamstress, and a capricious one at that. Memory runs her needle in and out, up and down, hither and tither.

We know not what comes next, or what follows after. Thus the most ordinary movement in the world, such as sitting down at a table and pulling the inkstand towards one, may agigatate a thousand odd, disconnected fragments, now bright, now dim, hanging and bobbing and deeping and flaunting like the underlinen of a family of fourteen on a line in a gale of wind."

Virginia Wolf

Orlando