You listen to an old song through London lights, you hear another story, and as the happy-sad Christmas season arrives, fat Santas drinking through their pain, the memories are there waiting to be rejuvenated like an old photo album with those plastic pockets stuck together. Your parents look impossibly young and they are hesitant and gangly. Move through the moments: they are joined by a stillness that is imparted into every word you breathe out into the foggy, misty evening that gently rocks itself into the past.
Post Modernism is "the disappearance of a sense of history, the way in which our entire contemporary social system has little by little begun to lose its capacity to retain its own past, has begun to live in a perpetual present and in a perpetual change that obliterates traditions of the kind which all earlier social formations have had in one way or another to preserve… The information function of the media would thus be to help us to forget, to serve as the very agents and mechanisms of our historical amnesia" (Jameson).
"Simplifying to the extreme, I define the postmodern as incredulity toward metanarratives." –Lyotard