I have a theory that the past is at first a horrifying memory which makes a progression towards beauty, thought and saudade. The initial horror stems from a sense of abjection: the person in the memory is simultaneously me and also not me. What energizes the progression towards thought and beauty really are the dual motions of time and experience. We feel saudade because we are utterly cognizant, utterly powerless, about the expanding intangible distances between self and memory, and it is only this way that Man is truly vulnerable.
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