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<Text id=LesMemS>
<Author>Lessing, Doris</Author>
<Title>The Memoirs of a Survivor</Title>
<Edition>New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1975</Edition>
<Date>1973-1974</Date>
<body>
<loc><locdoc>LesMemS3</locdoc><milestone n=3>
<div0>
<p>We all remember that time. It was no different
for me than for others. Yet we do tell each other over and over
again the particularities of the events we shared, and the repetition,
the listening, is as if we are saying, " It was like that for
you, too? Then that confirms it, yes, it was so, it must have
been, I wasn't imagining things. " We match or dispute like people
who have seen remarkable creatures on a journey: " Did you
see that big blue fish? Oh, the one you saw was yellow! " But
the sea we travelled over was the same, the protracted period
of unease and tension before the end was the same for everybody,
everywhere; in the smaller units of our cities-- streets, a
cluster of tall blocks of flats, a hotel-- as in cities, nations, a . . .
