The Forester and His Unforgettable Memory

As long as I can remember... Nope. I don't remember. But I will.

Memory is a wonderful thing. It owes you nothing, yet it is always there to help. And a bad memory is twice as wonderful, because it helps you not remember all the things you have done.

And if I can't remember anything, that must mean I have done quite a lot in my lifetime.

Maybe that's why I live here in the forest, among the squirrels, where the only visitors I get are forest animals, cold, and hunger.

But it doesn't matter, because...

...I'm going to get something to eat.

My favorite food is memory.

The memory of squirrels. The memory of mushrooms. The memory of pinecones. The memory of spring, summer, the rusty decay of autumn... and then the white hunger.

Oh, I remember the white hunger very clearly.

It's hard to forget.

Before this long, damp, colorful season finally ends, I need to remember as many things as possible. Then, when everything around me becomes cold and white, I can forget them all.

Just like I often forget what I was doing near the raspberry bush...

...or next to that very thorny, very sticky, very sweet yellow buzzing goo that first stretches, then I suddenly remember the sweet taste, and then something in my side, or my hand, or my face starts hurting so terribly—

That is probably nature's way of helping me remember.

So I don't forget where that sticky, sweet, yellow food is.

Little squirrel...

I'm starting to think about you again.

Why?

I need to remember what made me think of a squirrel in the first place...

The smell.

That's right.

I can smell something burning.

Oh.

It's the squirrel!!!!!

I was supposed to turn her over so she wouldn't burn.

Well...

This will do.

I think I'll have a little dig around in her memory instead.

She probably had quite an interesting life.