After finally solving the mystery of his existence and true identity in Work of the Devil, Simon finds that he has still not overcome the more daily challenges of remembering what he came upstairs for, who these grown-ups are that live with him (and what they have done with his children?) and how can that footage be from 2009, when he only bought those shoes a few months ago?
In Greek mythology, the Muses were the daughters of Mnemosyne, goddess of memory - though ironically, there is no easy way to remember her name. But Memory was thus clearly regarded by the ancient Greeks as the mother of the arts, wellspring of inspiration, the compost in which imagination takes rooty. Our last defence against tyranny, the consolation of the just and the seat of the soul. Without memory, the illusion of self crumbles. Mine, however, is shot. So where does that leave me?
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