She tells me now that she doesn’t understand that thing called memory. She doesn’t understand its essence or dynamic, and why, especially, it never seems to abide by the rules of time or space or individual consciousness. She doesn’t understand how a young woman, in the midst of some small crisis, can remember catastrophes that happened lifetimes ago and worlds away, remember and proclaim these catastrophes as if she herself had witnessed them first hand. She doesn’t understand that at all, or else how the very same young woman, offering only what she imagines to be a cruel joke, can in fact end up remembering a catastrophe that is yet to happen.

– pg 166.