Memoir

This is a bit of a classic example of the personal memoir type of dementia confessional – full of emotion and what people would probably call humanity – but ultimately just a personal piece wrapped up in whatever comes to hand, including the obligatory quote from high art (Beckett this time not a poem).

Still worth a read with your eyes open, but once read you probably don’t need to read another long piece like this ever again. This is the shortened version.