Memory and Identity Theme Analysis

The Other organizes his time meticulously and never permits our meeting to last longer than one hour. If he requires my presence at other times, he calls out ‘Piranesi!’ until I come. Piranesi. It is what he calls me. Which is strange because as far as I remember it is not my name.

In accordance with the first system, I have named two years 2011 and 2012. This system strikes me as deeply pedestrian. Also I cannot remember what happened two thousand years ago which made me think that years a good starting point. According to the second system I have given the years names like ‘The Year I named the Constellations’ and ‘The Year I counted and named the Dead.’ I like this much more. It gives each year a character of its own. This is the system I shall use going forward.

Do trees exist? Many things are unknown. Once—it was about six or seven months ago—I saw a bright yellow speck floating on a gentle Tide beneath the Fourth Western Hall. Not understanding what it could be, I waded out into the Waters and caught it. It was a leaf, very beautiful, with two sides curving to a point at each end. Of course it is possible that it was part of a type of sea vegetation that I have never seen, but I am doubtful. The texture seemed wrong. Its surface repelled Water, like something meant to live in Air.

I saw a black scribble against a grey Sky and a flicker of bright red; words drifted towards me – white words on a black background. At the same time, there was a sudden blare of noise and a metallic taste on my tongue. And all of the images – no more than fragments or ghosts of images really — seemed to coalesce around the strange world, ‘Batter-Sea.’ I tried to get a hold of them, to bring them into sharper focus, but like a dream they faded and were gone.

So this, as far as I can tell, is what the birds told me. A message from Afar. Obscure Writing. Innocence eroded. Interesting. I will allow some time to elapse—say a few months—and then I will examine this communication again to see if the intervening events can shed any light upon it (and vice versa).

That being said, it occurs to me to wonder why it is that the House gives a greater variety of objects to the Other than to me, providing him with sleeping bags, shoes, plastic bowls, cheese sandwiches, notebooks, slices of Christmas cake, etc. , etc., whereas me it mostly gives fish. I think perhaps it is because the Other is not as skilled in taking care of himself as I am. He does not know how to fish.

Two memories. Two bright minds which remember past events differently. It is an awkward situation. There exists no third person to say which of us is correct. (If only the Sixteenth Person were here).

“You said you met 16. But you also said 16 does not know the way here. Meaning that you must have met him in his own Hall or, at any rate, in some Remote Region. This surprises me because I do not believe you have undertaken any long journeys since I have known you.” I smiled at the Other, awaiting his answer, which I fully expected would be very interesting.

I stopped reading and stood up, breathing hard. I had a strong urge to fling the Journal away from me. The words on the page—(in my own writing!)—looked like words, but at the same time I knew they were meaningless. It was nonsense, gibberish! What meaning could words such as ‘Birmingham’ and ‘Perugia’ possibly have? None. There is nothing in the World that corresponds to them. The Other was right after all. I had forgotten many things!

I forget. I forget. Yesterday I could not think of the word for lamp-post. This morning I thought that one of the statues spoke to me. I passed some time (about half an hour I think) talking to it. I am LOSING MY MIND. How horrible, how terrible to be in this dreadful place and MAD. I am DETERMINED TO KILL him before this happens. Before I forget why I HATE HIM.

Are you Matthew Rose Sorensen?

I am… I stuttered. I am…

At first I could get no further than this.

I am… I am the Beloved Child of the House.

Yes.

My last thought before I fell asleep was: He is dead. My only friend. My only enemy.

This annoyed me. ‘I do not see why you say I can only see a representation in this World,’ I said with some sharpness. ‘The word “only” suggests a relationship of inferiority. You make it sounds as if the Statue was somehow inferior to the thing itself. I do not see that that is the case at all. I would argue that the Statue is superior to the thing itself, the statue being perfect, eternal, and not subject to decay.’