My memories are inside me - they're not things or a place - I can take them anywhere.

My memories are inside me - they're not things or a place - I can take them anywhere.

Memories were waiting at the edges of things, beckoning to me.

Memories are the treasures that we keep locked deep within the storehouse of our souls, to keep our hearts warm when we are lonely.

Что происходит с нашей памятью? В то время как совершаемые нами поступки не оставляют в ней и следа, нас продолжает волновать память сердца.

No memory is ever alone; it's at the end of a trail of memories, a dozen trails that each have their own associations.