We both know what memories can bring

Hoy me desperté pensando en inventar una máquina borra recuerdos.
No es que sea una idea innovadora, ¿a quién no se le habrá ocurrido ya?

El problema es que no sé como se hace y cada día es más difícil convivir con los fantasmas del pasado.

Esos fantasmas que se materializan a través de imágenes y objetos, y recuerdos inventados.

Miro por acá, miro por allá
están en todos lados...
no se van, no los dejan ir.

Duermen en mi cama,
comen en mi mesa
visten mis ropas

Alguien los tiene atados y no los quiere largar.

Y yo me pregunto:
¿cómo dejar el pasado atrás si no nos deshacemos de todos estos recuerdos materiales?
¿No alcanza con lo que nos pasa adentro de la cabeza, con saber lo que fue y que ya no será?

Joan Baez compuso una canción para Dylan, su gran amor, y "we both know what memories can bring".
¡Pero claro que lo sabemos!
Todos sabemos lo que los recuerdos pueden evocar,
y eso asusta tanto que uno quiere picarse los ojos para dejar de ver.
Quien tuviera el coraje.

Como yo no lo tengo quise inventar una máquina.

Rust and Diamonds · Joan Baez

Well I'll be damned
Here comes your ghost again
But that's not unusual
It's just that the moon is full
And you happened to call
And here I sit
Hand on the telephone
Hearing a voice I'd known
A couple of light years ago
Heading straight for a fall

As I remember your eyes
Were bluer than robin's eggs
My poetry was lousy you said
Where are you calling from?
A booth in the midwest
Ten years ago
I bought you some cufflinks
You brought me something
We both know what memories can bring
They bring diamonds and rust

Well you burst on the scene
Already a legend
The unwashed phenomenon
The original vagabond
You strayed into my arms
And there you stayed
Temporarily lost at sea
The Madonna was yours for free
Yes the girl on the half-shell
Would keep you unharmed

Now I see you standing
With brown leaves falling around
And snow in your hair
Now you're smiling out the window
Of that crummy hotel
Over Washington Square
Our breath comes out white clouds
Mingles and hangs in the air
Speaking strictly for me
We both could have died then and there

Now you're telling me
You're not nostalgic
Then give me another word for it
You who are so good with words
And at keeping things vague
Because I need some of that vagueness now
It's all come back too clearly
Yes I loved you dearly
And if you're offering me diamonds and rust
I've already paid