"When from a long-distant past nothing subsists, after the people are dead, after the things are broken and scattered, still, alone, more fragile, but with more vitality, more unsubstantial, more persistent, more faithful, the smell and taste of things remain poised a long time, like souls, ready to remind us, waiting and hoping for their moment, amid the ruins of all the rest; and bear unfaltering, in the tiny and almost impalpable drop of their essence, the vast structure of recollection.
And once again I had recognized the taste of the crumb of madeleine soaked in her decoction of lime-flowers which my aunt used to give me (although I did not yet know and must long postpone the discovery of why this memory made me so happy), immediately the old gray house upon the street, where her room was, rose up like the scenery of a theater."
(From Marcel Proust, In Search of Lost Time. Thanks, Wikiquote.)
Also on the topic of memory... In one of the first posts, I mentioned an artist who'd done a video piece about a girl who turned herself into a camera. I've yet to go back and add a link, but here's a video of a guy who has actually been called 'The Human Camera'. I suspect he's better at remembering places than I will prove myself to be. Nonetheless, I think the next thing I'll attempt will be some sketches of what I can remember.
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