And that, my friend, is the art of erasure, as it is enacted in your own
life, and all lives: life is much, much more than is necessary, and
much, much more than any of us can bear, so we erase it or it erases us,
we ourselves are an erasure of everything we have forgotten or don't
know or haven't experienced, and on our deathbed, even that limited and
erased "whole" becomes further diminished, if you are lucky you will
remember the one word water, all others having been erased; if you are
lucky you will remember one place or one person, but no one will ever,
ever read on their deathbed, the whole text, intact and in order.
- Mary Ruefle
descensus Averno facilis est