très riches heures: the ship of theseus
when i visited you today you told me that you had found work there, they had asked you a few questions and were so impressed by your answers that they asked you to stay and help out- the other people there weren’t as quick or as sharp, and they could do with having someone like that, someone like you, around. you were so happy, and i was happy too. you told me a story of my great grandmother, correcting yourself when you said that she was - no i mean she is. is she still alive? i don’t remember and i said what i often say now: she might be, i would have to check. i am getting so good at checking, or promising that i will. all those years in customer facing roles, if there’s one thing i can do it’s smile and lie. still, when i asked you if you wanted me to take you back to your room and you said what room? i don’t have a room here, i froze for just a moment. mercifully it came to me to say, but what if you did? maybe you might. we could have a look.
when we turned the corner of the corridor you suddenly remembered - oh of course, yes, my room, i knew that, and we laughed. the woman who shares your room asked me my name and how old i was, and when i told her, she said no! really? i thought you were 19 or 20! which is ridiculous, of course, but i froze again thinking of what it had been like then, in the country of the time before, when neither of us had any occasion to wonder as you did once, and can no longer:
who will i be when i’m gone?