Faces in the Water - Pg 128

   I could not remember people and if I met them in the street and they spoke to me as if they had been friends I learned to talk to them without knowing who they were.
   "Who was that?" I would say afterwards to my sister who accompanied me on these outings. And we would laugh, making fun of my memory, and we would talk together of my "country mansion" and wonder what had caused me to forget so much. In the attempted sharing of childhood reminiscences I experienced not a surge of recollected incidents and delights, but a vast invasion of loneliness. Again I could not remember, but this time, afraid to face the emptiness, I pretended memory and no one guessed.