"Your memory is a monster; you forget - it doesn't. It simply files things away. It keeps things for you, or hides things from you - and summons them to your recall with will of its own. You think you have a memory; but it has you."
~ John Irving, A Prayer for Owen Meany
A terrible green. A never-ending, unfurling sea of green. On the wet, mossy branches of dark trees. A dewy carpet of newly sprung grass. As tiny throbs of life waiting to sprout on slippery, naked boughs. I miss that green. That quaking, trembling, ubiquitous green. That terrible, terrible green.