The man looks at the bandage on his arm and back to the woman, mumbling, and reaches toward a bowl of cold rice.  Soon he is strong enough to walk outside and sit in the sunshine.  Jimo trades baskets for a pair of man’s pants, a shirt and sandals.  He goes with her to collect reeds.  He can carry twice as much as she.  But the words come slowly.  And when they do the dialect is foreign to Jimo.  The man can’t remember anything about the river.  He touches the key on the chain and frowns from the effort of remembering. 

I wish I could remember.  I must be someone.  All I want is to remember!

Read More