#Time It really seems that a man can not own both the present experience and memory of the past. When relecting on the past which was a little unendurable, I find myself absorbed in that ambiguous mememory. Maybe the realistic confusion and paradox makes what is just an escape. It’s like a dreamcore, a kind of surrealism. Just like “Many years later as he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendia was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice”. Time.
