memories-like-loose-snow-wind-chorale-ghosts-one-another-ever-sense-real-real

Memories shift like loose snow in a wind, or are a chorale of ghosts all talking over one another. There is only ever a sense that what is real to me is not real to others, and to share a memory with someone is to risk sullying my belief in what has truly happened.

Hannah Kent
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I preferred to read than talk with the others.

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I don't want to be remembered, I want to be here!

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I first heard the story of Agnes Magnusdottir when I was an exchange student in the north of Iceland.

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