• A sense of security, of well-being, of summer warmth pervades my memory. That robust reality makes a ghost of the present. The mirror brims with brightness; a bumblebee has entered the room and bumps against the ceiling. Everything is as it should be, nothing will ever change, nobody will ever die.

    Vladimir Nabokov (2012). “Speak, Memory: An Autobiography Revisited”, p.57, Penguin UK