There is no remembering without forgetting. There is no remembering that cannot become forgetting. Forgetting can become a deferred remembering. Forgetting can be way of remembering. They open out of each other, light becoming darkness, darkness becoming light. Between consciousness and the unconscious there are no stable boundaries. Dacning between remembering and forgetting, at once spanning them and within each, is imagining.
If seeing in blindness provides an image of knowing in passion, then the seeing of tears is an image of knowing in compassion. I care for what I know; I weep at its suffering. I weep at the suffering of those I love, my neighbourhood, my community. I care also for what I do not know, the other. I weep at its suffering. For I know that in loving and tending my child I sacrifice the thousands of children around the world who have no love, no tending.
The blindness of so much seeing; the profound seeing in blindness; the blind as the archivists of vision; the blindness of tears; eyes given for weeping as much as for seeing.
From A Shaft of Darkness: Derrida in the Archive Fever - Verne Harris