What if we knew everything? By that I mean, when we met somebody, we knew everything about them; if we knew all of their memories, past, and childhood. What if we felt the feeling of failure, the vision of misty eyes, the movement of the chilly wind. What if we held the soft doll in our hands, opened the book to the aging smell, tasted the sweet salt of the sea. What if our mother never came home, the ringing never stopped, the cold tear-washed blade on our chest. We slip on the rocks, climb till our hands rub bare, read our tired eyes to sleep. Would we ever judge anymore? Could we criticize somebody else if we had felt and experienced what they had? Would we even be ourselves anymore, unique? David Sedaris’s intake of Hugh’s childhood seems to make himself rather more dynamic. He has his own memories, but now he has a greater variety to choose from for enjoyment. He has a larger selection to create his adventure. Sedaris’s thinking has become more exciting in this way, but he didn’t have powers. He didn’t have some supernatural ability to take somebody’s memory. He listened. He conversed and took. He claimed to be a thief, but what kind of robber is notorious for taking what is willingly given? All we have to do is listen.