The mind’s memory is fickle in its recollections. It shines a spotlight on some things but altogether forgoes others. In between the two poles lies a gradient of memories; some brighter and others dimmer in relation to one another. The troubling point is that the arbitrator that decides what is remembered, or how well it is remembered, is a subconscious autopilot that is hardly ever questioned or scrutinised. This is the foundation from which a typical man’s personality forms its particular nuanced array of tastes and inclinations. It is not exactly akin to throwing various paints onto a canvas and letting the colours splatter and dribble as they may into the shapes that random laws decide — since the backdrop of societal influences also plays a determining role — but it still shares many qualities with the analogy. The routine of life is strongly influenced by this haphazard function of memory which not only serves as a tool for recollection but also a guiding force to which a man leans on like a crutch. It perpetuates a man’s habits, outlooks, and actions in such a way that the continuity of yesterday’s role is preserved as the future rolls on in. The blind spots that a man’s memory is predisposed to ensuring are left dark and murky abhor any attempt he makes to turn on the lights.