That’s How Ptolemy Imagined The Disposition Of His Memories, His Thoughts: They Were Still His, Still In The Range Of His Thinking, But They Were, Many And Most Of Them, Locked On The Other Side A Closed Door That He’s Lost The Key For. So His Memory Became Like Secrets Held Away From His Own Mind. But These Secrets Were Noisy Things; They Babbled And Muttered Behind The Door, And So If He Listened Closely He Might Catch A Snatch Of Something He Once Knew Well.
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That’s How Ptolemy Imagined The Disposition Of
Walter Mosley
That’s How Ptolemy Imagined The Disposition Of His Memories, His Thoughts: They Were Still His, Still In The Range Of His Thinking, But They Were, Many And Most Of Them, Locked On The Other Side A Closed Door That He’s Lost The Key For. So His Memory Became Like Secrets Held Away From His Own Mind. But These Secrets Were Noisy Things; They Babbled And Muttered Behind The Door, And So If He Listened Closely He Might Catch A Snatch Of Something He Once Knew Well.
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