There are few phenomena in Nature that reach their zenith a little while after the cause that motivates them has ceased. The thing is predictable and can be explained within the laws of Science beyond any reasonable doubt, but it retains a mystery of whimsical marvel. The vena contracta effect is one example. Another is, simply, the fact that the lower temperature in the day is recorded a little after sunrise, once the balance of heat in – heat out becomes positive.
Like those bones of the dead unearthed, like Nature, the past –our past- is phosphorescent: it shows the true light of events once it has become, indeed, past. Conserved in bits of memory, photographs and video clips show the genuine value of objects, people and experiences, as if the rust of time only grew and molded in our capricious minds. Frozen and fossilized, the past we today can see in faithful artifacts is beautiful and merciful.
The phosphorescence of time is not only a warm and humanizing feeling, a sort of self-respectful and indulgent sensation, but also it is a voyage of discovery. You see yourself from the outside, you see, indeed, yourself at a different time… It seems that our conscience and vital state is a matter of infinitesimal proportions, i.e., it lasts a tiny, super small, infinitesimal instant; after it, we are a different we, and we can look at ourselves from a different self.
Our memory goes on, moves along the thin rails of time and, therefore, gets facts distorted. It could not be other way: the memory of an infinitesimal transient being cannot but only long and dream the illusion that we do not change more than age or experience.
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