H.M.

Today* I went to the gallery to see the installation.

It was a dark little room with white walls.
The title and the artist's names were painted on one of the walls.

Right when you walk in you can hear the film playing in the back of the room, on a continuous loop.
There were paintings on the wall, but very few.
We walked to the back of the room towards the two projectors.

It was a film installation shown on two screens side by side with a delay in the second one.
There was just one little bench in the middle of the tiny space.
It created a sense of closeness, familiarity, relatedness.
I watched and I felt like I could watch this multiple times if I could.

It wasn't some extraordinary piece of work, yet very un-ordinary at the same time.

Knowing the background of H.M., I can't help but wonder how that must feels like.

How does it feel like to not be able to store any new memories?
Well of course I wouldn't even know because I won't remember.

Anterograde amnesia may be the worst kind.

If for the rest of my life I could only remember people or things I've already known before an incident, and not be able to recognize anyone or anything after even though I've encountered these things millions of times, what would it feel like? I won't even remember my current self. I'll be always stuck in the past. Can never move forth, even though I physically am.

Memories are interesting things. They're accurate, yet flawed.

What is real? What is not?

In the end, I left the gallery reflecting on life.

It was interesting, I think I'm going to go back a few more times before it closes.

* well actually yesterday since it's past midnight