I love my memory. It's like a book I haven't read yet! But other people have been talking about it, so these bits drift back in sharp, floating focus.
That metaphor was inapt, or possibly inept, in more than one major way. My expansion on "book I haven't read yet" did not characterize any experience I've had with any actual book I haven't read yet, nor extend nor clarify any of the ways in which my memory could be likened to such a book. Nor, upon reflection, is my memory in any describable sense akin to a book! At least, not any that I've read.
The metaphor was deeply, fundamentally flawed, and folks - I knew it. Even as I typed it, I knew it was as flawed and invalid as any metaphor you've ever heard from me.
And I proceeded with it, heedless!
It is as if my discretion - which some characterize as "the better part of valor," but I correct them: discretion is the faculty by which the astute are able to find valid justifications for their cowardice - were a book I haven't read yet.
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