We never really forget the people we try to forget, because we're too preoccupied with the thought of forgetting them that they just stay in our minds, engraved into our memories by our own slavish labour.
Then you walk through a flowering field one summer, dazed by the sunlight:
Ah, what am I doing here? Did I forget to look at the flowers again, only up, up, up at the clear sky?
But what you are searching for isn't clarity-- you're actually looking for the Sun. Can you see it? Can't you see it? Right there. Though you know, you can never catch sight of it. Just like that, the only star in your world is one you are unable to recognise.
In the heat, even past memories melt. The sweat that trickles down the nape of your neck, if you look close enough, you could see the suspended image of a time you wish you'd never experienced. While drying yourself with the pages of a novel, a passage reminds you of your own past; a shared name, a common feeling, that familiar song... Now they give words to YOUR unfading thoughts.
Ah, I'm only here because I want to keep on walking.