Viscosity and velocity are opposites, yet they can look the same. Viscosity causes the stillness of disinclination; velocity causes the stillness of fascination. An observer can’t tell if a person is silent and still because inner life has stalled or because inner life is transfixingly busy.

‘Do you know what steals your memories?’ I look at him. Because it is a strange question, one that has no answer and many answers. The river of sleep takes memories down into the murk and silt. Night and the darkness take them. Waking takes them, or our own sadness. Or maybe it’s that forgetting is like a spore or blight inside each memory itself,

There’s no perfect speed for walking through a city; your pace varies according to the complexity of the area, the traffic, the absence or presence of sidewalks, the number of people who cross your path, and how many memories you wish to take home afterwards.