These voices in my mind….
Making me despair…
This memory was not from his father, but he knew it was deeply connected to him.
Somewhere deep inside of him, as if it was a reflection of himself that he had forgotten, but now, knowing that this reflection was his own, it brought back its own set of memories.
It was as if he had always had a left hand, but the knowledge that he had such a limb was taken from him, and so every day he had always been dimly aware of that hand, but had never bothered to associate it as part of his body.
Truly knowledge was power, and for someone like him, all new knowledge shed light on the massive structure that was his body and mind. He was like a building that had a thousand rooms, but he had always been locked inside one room, and therefore always thought he was just one room.
This memory was merely a new light shed in the many rooms that made up his being.
