Collective stairway descent. Attempt to exhaust a Roman place.
From now on, memories exist, fleeting or tenacious, futile or heavy, but nothing brings them together. They are like this unbound writing, made up of isolated letters unable to weld together to form a word, which was mine until the age of seventeen or eighteen, or like these dissociated, dislocated drawings, whose scattered elements almost never managed to connect with each other.
Georges Perec, W or the memory of childhood, 1975.