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[...] symbolism is bullshit. Because my sister's room is not preserved, but no one has moved on. We're all still stuck in place. [...] I don't want to remember it. Memories go into the memory hole. That's where they belong. [...] There may be symbols and symbolism in books and movies—sometimes it's even fun to find them—but in real life, we only have boxes and bags, old sagging shelves, and attics with fake Christmas trees. And none of it means anything. It's all just the detritus of life, our own jetsam, heaved overboard, then washed back to us by the waves and the tides. Coming around and around again. And the water disgorges the same sights, same house, same me, same Mom.
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