erasing
raze
i
can
never
let
go
of
anything
.
and
yet
i
used
to
throw
things
away
without
even
thinking
when
i
was
too
young
to
know
that
the
limbs
of
my
life
wouldn't
grow
back
after
i
pruned
them
with
my
own
impatience.
i
once
spent
the
better
part
of
a
day
recording
an
improvised
audio
drama
about
an
outlaw
and
the
two
men
determined
to
bring
him
to
justice
.
there
were
side
plots
and
sound
effects
and
commercial
breaks
and
chase
scenes
.
i
think
i
listened
to
what
i
made
once
before
wiping
out
all
but
the
final
few
minutes
so
i
could
capture
the
sound
of
my
fingers
fumbling
with
a
rented
keyboard
i
had
no
idea
how
to
play
, triggering prerecorded
patterns
in
the
absence
of
any
meaningful
melodic
ideas
.
i
was
ten
years
old
.
i'd
give
a
lot
to
have
that
pictureless
movie
back
again
.
i
understand
now
that
the
archive
of
the
self
is
something
worth
preserving.
this
is
the
last
place
i
know
that
allows
me
to
remember
who
i
was
while
straining
to
see
who
i'm
going
to
be
.
and
there's
still
room
to
grow
.
260901
what's it to you?
who
go
blather
from
