"And what a blessing and curse it is: this in-built function of language, the engine at its core, this grammar that keeps track of the time, the way these words innately catalogue what’s lost, the syntax of people with both history and destination. Poetry with its long bloody memory."I live alone in an old train carriage, and yet in telling stories and remembering various people with whom I've met in other parts of my life, it feels like I am sharing this space.