Hiroshima Mon Amour

Listen to me. Listen to me. Like you, I know what it is to forget.
No, you don't know what it is to forget.
Like you, I am endowed with memory. I know what it is to forget.
No, you are not endowed with memory.
Like you, I too have struggled with all my might not to forget. Like you, I forgot. Like you, I longed for a memory beyond consolation, a memory of shadows and stone. For my part I struggled every day with all my might against the horror of no longer understanding the reason to remember. Like you, I forgot. Why deny the obvious necessity of remembering? Listen to me. I know something else. It will begin again. 200,000 dead and 80,000 wounded in nine seconds. Those are the official figures. It will begin again. It will be 1 0,000 degrees on the earth. Ten thousand suns, people will say. The asphalt will burn. Chaos will prevail. An entire city will be lifted off the ground, then fall back to earth in ashes. New vegetation rises from the sands. Four students await together, like brothers, a legendary death. The seven branches of the delta estuary of the river Ota drain and fill at their usual hour, precisely at their usual hour, with fresh water rich with fish, grey or blue, depending on the season and time of day. People along the muddy banks no longer watch the tide slowly rise in the seven branches of the delta estuary of the river Ota.
I meet you. I remember you. Who are you? You're destroying me. You're good for me.
How could I know this city was tailor-made for love?
How could I know you fit my body like a glove? I like you. How unlikely. I like you.
How slow all of a sudden. How sweet.
You cannot know. You're destroying me. You're good for me. You're destroying me. You're good for me. I have time.
Please, devour me. Deform me to the point of ugliness.
Why not you? Why not you in this city and in this night so like other cities and other nights you can hardly tell the difference? I beg of you.