🕯waxwerk🕯

A pair of marble statues stood on their own plinths in the centre of the lawn, facing one another. On my first glance they appeared to be identical, down to the folds of their robes spilling over the plinths. ‘Bought them ridiculously cheap from an old planter’s wife after the planter ran off with his fifteen-year-old lover,’ said Magnus. ‘The one on the right is Mnemosyne. You’ve heard of her?’ ‘The goddess of Memory,’ I said. ‘Who’s the other woman?’ ‘Her twin sister, of course. The goddess of Forgetting.’ I looked at him, wondering if he was pulling my leg. ‘I don’t recall there’s a goddess for that.’ ‘Ah, doesn’t the fact of your not recalling prove her existence?’ He grinned. ‘Maybe she exists, but it’s just that we have forgotten.’ ‘So, what’s her name?’ He shrugged, showing me his empty palms. ‘You see, we don’t even remember her name anymore.’