The conversation began with a measured ease. He approached the first moments of recollection in an unhurried tone, speaking of his present life as a “happy” and retired man, a marked contrast to the high-stakes environments of his past. Memories, perhaps, are like wisps of smoke. They resist containment. And ever so gently, they move along their own winding paths. And just like that, what returned did so gradually, and the exchange took shape without urgency.