||[Mar. 12th, 2003|01:30 pm]
Milan Kundera's The Book of Laughter and Forgetting has a bit about a Czech woman who fled to France while on vacation, and had to leave behind her journals and other personal items to avoid suspicion from the secret police. Years later, after her husband has died, she tries to reconstruct their life together, and realizes that most of the details are lost to her memory completely, and that she can't completely piece together exactly when the stuff she remembers happened, for the most part.
This makes me feel like I want to update my journal more often (even if I did so with mostly private entries), but I probably won't. She had her husband encouraging, maybe even forcing, her to write every day so she'd be able to remember the past, while no one cares if I remember. Tracey won't even let me take pictures of her