However, for every hundred dead stories, only one or two were still alive. I recall these with caution, not often, so that they do not wear out. I fish out one, and the situation, the characters, their poses will be resurrected in front of me. And suddenly stop: I felt a fraying - a word was already visible through the basis of feelings. I guess: this word will soon take the place of many images dear to me. I immediately stop and start thinking about something else - I don’t want to overload my memories. But in vain - the next time I want to revive them, many of them will already be dead.