We all have such fateful objects–it may be a recurrent landscape in one case, a number in another–carefully chosen by the gods to attract events of special significance for us: here shall John always stumble; there shall Jane’s heart always break.

-Vladimir Nabokov

how rare are those scenes:
those moments that affect you to the quick
(and stick in your mind as one of those times that just won’t wear with age)
and the image becomes symbolic to you,
the very thoughts that darted through your mind become part of the memory;
entwined with objects and dialogue to further root that moment in you:
its meaning and weight that connects you (you realize)
to something that rings as so completely yourself,
stranger and deeper and closer than a poem.