I read a letter where someone used the phrase ”A House of Memory.” It struck me as a beautiful phrase, even though I wasn’t sure what it meant. We all have memories — of people we love, of things we have done, of the way we have lived our lives — and l guess these memories will always be stored within us. Is each of us, then, a ”house of memory” or is it actually a physical place where we should store our written and drawn memories? Again, I’m not sure, but I have a gut feeling that a house of memory is something each of us must build, whether inside ourselves or externally, in a physical setting.
I realize I am writing about something that is hard to pin down, but it seems important. I think memories are what make us as human beings — how can we forget what is important, what we have experienced, whether good or bad. I’d welcome your own thoughts about what you think a house of memory is.
