What’s an irrecollection?
Imagine you live in a cave, bound to the floor, facing a wall; there’s another wall behind you. You’ve lived in that cave your entire life, and you know nothing about the outside world. You can’t see what’s happening behind you: you can only see shadows of it on the wall in front of you.
Now, imagine there’s a group of men standing behind the wall at your back. When they hold objects above that wall, you can see their shadows dancing in front of you. Those shadows are imperfect representations of the living world, but they’re your only contact with it.
When we write, we are men casting shadows; when we read, we are prisoners, observing the shadows.
This a place for writing, by writers. It’s about telling stories and perfecting the craft. It’s food for thoughtlessness.