“It's already clear to me how much of life is forgotten even as it happens. Most of it. The unregarded present spooling away from us, the soft tumble of unremarkable thoughts, the long-neglected miracle of existence.” Ian McEwan wrote this. When I read this, I was tucked into a corner of a train seat, my own unregarded present spooling by. I don’t remember which day. It was one of those moments that are so easily forgotten. And it scared me.