Memories are fallible. Personally, I think it's sad that very often, we don't even know what we've forgotten. Instead, what we are left with is a vague sense of emptiness, a fleeting notion of an event or thought that was once important.
My friend Edmond disagrees.
"Our lives are like a cheque. We live only once, acquiring whatever value possible from our experiences. And, at the end of the day, our memories inscribe our final value onto the fields of the cheque, in ink black and bold.
In the end, the ink eventually fades. And so, as our experiences vanish, the meaning of our lives disappear.
On the other hand, a blank cheque is incredibly tempting, particularly if nobody remembers what was written..."
In hindsight, I can't actually recall how I came to befriend Edmond.