You can hide memories, but you can’t erase the history that produced them. If nothing else, you need to remember that. You can’t erase history, or change it. It would be like destroying yourself.
Excerpt from Haruki Murakami’s new release, “Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage”
I’ve only read a couple chapters in so far, but it’s kind of uncanny how the mood of the book actually matches my mood in life right now :o