Once a thing is known it can never be unknown. It can only be forgotten. And, in a way that bends time, so long as it is remembered, it will indicate the future. It is wiser, in every circumstance, to forget, to cultivate that art of forgetting. To remember is to face the enemy. The truth lies in remembering.
I write to forget. That is why I write. Writing is an exile's main occupation. When I feel swamped and depressed in my solitude and hidden by it, physically obscured by it, rendered invisible, writing is my way of piping up. Of reminding people that I am here. So I could forget the hardship of living and removed all the sadness that I feel for awhile. I can switch on a current that allows me to write so easily, with an aim to make people laugh, ponder and think. And people like that. And if I manage this well enough, they will fail to register my real message, which is a simple one. Look at me, look at me. That is why I try to use subterfuge and guile, and a bit of luck and good management my message will never be deciphered, and my reasons for delivering it in the manner that follows remain obscure.