he had 15 minutes to post something so he thought he'd improvise
where's the start?
there wasn't one so he started by stating a simple fact
then he paused
no, mustn't think
so he went on typing....
then stopped to look at the screen...
he'd just finished Georges Simenon's The Engagement, suspecting that he'd read it before whilst remaining unsure even as he reached upwards of forty pages
once finished he checked and found he had read it by looking on the blog - yes - he'd even written a little review - now he worried about his memory...really...was it that bad?
so many books over so many years...
books forgotten, unfinished, never started, read and forgotten...
passing a bookshop that day he noticed the window display of reprinted Maigret novels and the sign saying they were all to be reprinted - that's good - but he had only read one or two in the series, considering Simenon's other novels to be so much better, so much more worthy of republication and praise.
he walked on into the Oxfam shop, followed immediately by the ageing Irishman who always goes in asking for tapes. he marvelled at the patience of the assistant who kindly told him, as he probably does every day: 'Sorry, we haven't got anything for you' - where he would have screamed 'FUCK OFF! WE DON'T HAVE ANY FUCKING TAPES FOR YOU! HOW MANY MORE TIMES ARE YOU GOING TO COME IN AND ASK THAT?' after the tenth time of asking. then he cursed himself for being impatient and failing to display tolerance towards the mentally impaired.
besides, wasn't he mentally impaired in some way?
forgetting he'd read a book?
not just any book, but one which he had enjoyed so much?
memory fades...failing to serve...