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A fragment of the Garden of Remembering
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You know that little tingling sensation, that itch of foresight or sideways realisation at the back of your brain, that feeling when the hairs on the back of your neck rise and bits of your vestigial reptilian neuron-architecture start firing mad signals at the rest of your mind - the feeling when you realise something that you are so unsure if it could be possible you slide up to the idea sideways because you are afraid, if you look at the idea you have had face on, it might wriggle away? You know that feeling? Of realising something that is possibly nothing but might, might just come to be true?
