. . . feeling, as I fear

The weakness of a human love for days

Disowned by memory.

When everything else has gone from my brain--the President's name, the state capitols, the neighborhood where I lived, and then my own name and what it was on earth I sought, and then at length the faces of my friends, and finally the faces of my family--when all this has dissolved, what will be left, I believe, is topology: the dreaming memory of land as it lay this way and that.