Memory is a magical thing, often elusive and sometimes cruel; yet the source of warm feeling when it takes on a nostalgic turn. The poet C. P. Cavafy captured the best side of memory in his poem Long Ago:
I'd like to speak of this memory,
but it's so faded now -- as though nothing's left --
because it was so long ago, in my adolescent years.
A skin as though of jasmine . . .
that August evening -- was it August? --
I can still recall the eyes: blue, I think they were . . .
Ah yes, blue: a sapphire blue.
And this is the way the best of memory may be; a glimpse of color, an aroma that recalls the world of yesterday, and innocence, and love.