All we have is our history — it does not belong to us, but we belong to it. It is our fate to disappear into the ordinary instant, and what seems to us so serious, significant, will one day be forgotten. Our dictionary of words between cradle and deathbed, returned to earth.
It is merely a cruel trick of time that our present life, which we accept so readily, will soon seem strange, without any prognosis to tether onto our previous selves.