a tilted horizon

photographers call a crooked horizon tilted. memory tilts reality the same way.

you remember some days not as pictures but as sensations. a smell, a color, the weight of a coat. the event is gone. what’s left is how it felt.

that is a tilted horizon of events. feeling presses on the memory until you no longer know how it actually was.

“yes, i remember that day, but only in pieces. my horizon is tilted.”

you can’t level it by remembering harder. you can only write it down while it’s still level.