When you removed the shroud

I could see why you loved it. It was spectacular, whatever it was, what it meant. It was blinding, all refracted light. Mirrors all around the room brought it out. It took the almost nothing worth of light coming down from the skylight and multiplied it. Brilliant. It was truly brilliant. Curved surfaces. The germ at its center: a cut of glass resembling a gem. It became so bright in here so fast. And it’s not even on you said. I must have gasped. I have gaps in my memory of the moment, in my memory of my mother and father, and what happened to them. That was another time. I didn’t think I could bring it back, but you did. You said this would open something up. Now you have these gaps too. I can’t say what you will remember, and how long it might take to bring it back, if it is even possible.