I don’t really know much. I only remember things in bits. I think I was a bad person, or at least part bad. Maybe I wasn’t someone you’d have wanted to know. And maybe I’ll slowly become more like that, the more I remember. But I don’t think I will, not fully. I think I can control it. I don’t know, it comes in and out like a tide, washing over me then leaving me dry . . .’
