In the last days of June 2024 I learned something I would rather not know. Aware that the act of forgetting is something that often simply happens, I started a daily practice of checking if I could still remember what I would like to forget. The question I found myself asking as time passed and I failed is if the desire to remember is what makes us forget.
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In the last days of June 2024, I learned something I would rather not know.
Something I wanted to forget.
Aware that the act of forgetting is something that often simply happens, I start a daily practice: at the end of each day I sit down, stamp a date on a notebook page and take note: Do I still remember? I write using charcoal, a material that has little permanence. To work with charcoal is to constantly fight its desire to go away. Every night I take the time to see if I can still remember what I would like to forget. I know how to remember, I don’t know how to forget. I do nothing to forget, I simply let time pass and register the presence of this thing I now know. I don’t know how to actively forget, and I choose not to learn ways to do it. I wait for it to happen.
As time passed and I failed, I found myself asking if the desire to remember is what makes us forget.
I fail over and over again.
I still remember.
