… coincidentally, there’s a segment on the very phenomenon described in The Mind of a Mnemonist: A Little Book About a Vast Memory, on CNN right this second!
This is how S., the mnemonist of the title, sees a “zhuk” [Russian for cockroach.]
“… A zhuk––that’s a dented piece in the potty… It’s a piece of rye bread… And in the evening when you turn on the light, that’s also a zhuk, for the entire room isn’t lit up, just a small area, while everything else remains dark––a zhuk. Warts are also a zhuk… Now I see them sitting before a mirror. There’s noise, laughter. There are my eyes staring at me from the mirror––dark––they’re also a zhuk… Now I’m lying in my crib… I hear a shout, noise, threats. Then someone’s boiling something in the enamel teakettle. It’s my grandmother making coffee. First she drops something red into the kettle, then takes it out––a zhuk. A piece of coal––that’s also a zhuk… I see them lighting candles on the Sabbath. A candle is burning in the holder, but some of the tallow hasn’t melted yet. The wick flickers and goes out. Then everything turns black. I’m scared, I cry––this is also a zhuk… And when people are sloppy pouring tea, and the drops miss the pot and land on the plates, that’s also a zhuk.”
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