That’s the way the seasons are. No it’s not the way the seasons are, it’s the way the mind is. Sitting here in this dry riverbed, the idea of green hillsides and rushing water is a complete abstraction. I can, with effort, call up a memory of green hillsides, and I know that these will be, so I force myself to pretend my memory is here, but I cannot really imagine these hillsides green.
Human memory is about one month long.