Memory is not primarily a mental function. The body is a flesh chronicle, a trove of old pain, of unresolved and still-percolating historical issues. Typically, difficult-to-diagnose illnesses take a long time to manifest.
Pleasure confirms the status quo, swaddles our habits and histories, leaves us satiated and soporific. Pain hauls us from our slumbers, slaps us into consciousness, indelicately indicates that it’s time for a change.
Let us view the span of our years through the lens of time-lapse photography—and in that corybantic kinesis, in the sudden rising and falling of things, have it made plain: No-thing lasts.