All of my being is forgetting. A wheel of forgetting. A gyre of forgetting and remembering and forgetting remembering and remembering forgetting. I cannot remember to remember. I forget that there is forgetting.

I am adrift. I am hurtling adrift at infinite speed. I am adrift in an endless ocean of black opalescent water. The water is all aglow against the roiling icebergs here and there. Black opal waves that never swell nor crash. I am adrift in this sea of forgetting and I see snakes teeming in the water. I am scared and frozen in place adrift in this motionless black ocean. The snakes show no interest in me but I am more terrified than I thought possible. Little circles. Their mouths are stuffed but they manage to hiss. They hiss words but I do not understand them. I know this language but their words are wholly alien. I have forgotten these words they hiss in their whirling dementia here in this echoless watery voidscape. I should know them. I should know their words and yet I will soon forget that I ever knew anything of them at all.

The wheel turns and I go headlong into something on the horizon, new and red and bizarre. No, it isn't new. I forgot. But now I remember. I remember that there is no forgetting. There is no forgetting there in the strange red dawn in the north. Memories are pain and the oblivion in the crimson halflight ahead is release from pain. When everything is forgotten anything is possible. When anything is possible everything is necessary.

Now I remember. I remember this impossible boreal sight. This is the first thing I saw when I was born into this cosmic spinning lie. This is how it has always been. A nauseous red light off in the distance. Ever-nearing and yet always so, so far away.