Lisa Schroeder

When he opens the door, I step in and an army of memories comes at me from all sides.

When he opens the door, I step in and an army of memories comes at me from all sides.

– Lisa Schroeder –

Chasing Brooklyn

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Marilynne Robinson

It is…difficult to describe someone, since memories are by their nature fragmented, isolated, and arbitrary as glimpses one has at night through lighted windows.[E]very memory is turned over and over again, every word, however chance, written in the heart in the hope that memory will fulfill itself, and become flesh, and that the wanderers will find a way home, and the perished, whose lack we always feel, will step through the door finally and stroke our hair with dreaming, habitual fondness, not having meant to keep us waiting long.

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