"The places we have known belong now only to the little world of space on which we map them for our own convenience. None of them was ever more than a thin slice, held between the contiguous impression that composed our life at that time ; remembrance of a particular form is but regret for a particular moment ; and houses, roads, avenues are as fugitive, alas, as the years."

Marcel Proust, Du côté de chez Swann