She was a girl who was afraid to forget. She didn’t want to forget. Before setting out for school exams she would say a prayer in which forgetting was anyaya, injustice, crime. In time the child learned disguise and drew the cloak of adulthood around herself. Still she walked the line of shadows. Memory became a back room of a many-storied old house, filled with dusty chests mirroring themselves. Since she could not forget her many perplexities, her many impunities, her memory became a cornucopia of harm.