Bokelskere.no

But he hadn't lost his mind. To the contrary, he'd lost everything but. His memory, his wife, his job, his friends, twenty-four years of his life - but not his mind. That was all that had been left and he'd retreated into it because there was nowhere else.

But how can one regret what, to the mind, has never existed? Even loss is an inaccurate description, for what loss is without the awareness of losing?