Where memory lies:
Between the spoken word and the unspeakable truth.
Between sound and pictograph and alphabet.
Between the hither and the farther shore.
Behind the bamboo curtain.
Up the sleeve of the smoking jacket.
In the cracks in the sidewalk and the door in the ceiling and the chink on the fence and the tongue in the water.
Between my father’s need to forget, his inability to remember, and my desire to know.
In the dirty little crevasses between crisis and opportunity.
—Accomplice to Memory
