For As Long As I Can’t Remember

For as long as I can remember I have been walking about the country with my barbigerous brother, Harry. My name is Mackenzie Adio, said Harry, which I remember vaguely. Harry said write all that I experience and all that I remember in this book, a journal. He said this as I have something; forgetting…

The question was asked of him today. Why must we go forth and not back; sojourn and never settle. The right is mine to know, for this journey is not his alone. “A right? Y’ain’t got no right to know!” he said in his drawn out, improper voice. I am not well at conflict, I suppose, for nothing was said by me after. “When you…

I have no memory of the first page being written, and this is the first day of my forgetting. I knew there were things that merely could not be remembered: my first lady-friend, the first time a nawpy was held by me, when my first employment was had; if ever I was. However, the first day is today when the page I wrote…

My crumpsy kin and I have yet to speak. The silent days number three now. Hard have I tried to recall him… killing me. However, I cannot. Confusion and anger is seemingly all I know of the subject. This railway has now been followed a great distance by us. The occasional happenstance brings the sound…

Faded is the confused and angry soul I once had for Harry. There remains no memory of that conversation with him, yet if I flip back thirty-two pages in this journal, I can read of its tension. And I have. All nights since that page, I have read it: still nothing. Not a slight glimpse of a memory of what he was speaking of.

The days number themselves two since my last writing. The previous weekend saw many a thing occur. It is perfectly remembered now, yet I am aware that three weeks will strip this memory from me. At last, it was done. I left Harry. I boarded a train, thoughtfully lonesome, like some vagabond and jail…

At last, New York has finally seen our arrival. We are on an elevated railway. Never have I seen a thing similar. It travels through the air, at a height that is a true spectacle. I find it incredible and it seems to be found the same by Harry. We arrived at Grand Central Station yesterday evening. Harry said we were to ride on the elevated rail.

Another train has us for New York and it ought to get us there in a few weeks, Harry says. I think we have stopped in every possible city there could ever be. Boarding and unboarding at most stops, avoiding the uniformed men, and now that we see people, Harry has been finding some money. Some stations prove…

This blank piece of paper has had my eyes for near a week. I have not written since September eleventh and I haven’t a clue as to how to begin again…