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Yes, and our sister’s sons are candid now about a creepy business which used to worry them a lot: They cannot find their mother or their father in their memories anywhere – not anywhere. The goat farmer, whose name is James Carmalt Adams, Jr., said this about it to me, tapping his forehead with his fingertips: “It isn’t the museum, it should be.” The museums in children’s minds, I think, automatically empty themselves in times of utmost horror – to protect the children from eternal grief.
