Those neurons, the brains soldiers, march for years, from the time were born, through the byways of the brain, setting actions into motion, rolling away boulders of all kinds, and then, with Alzheimers, theyre blocked by trees down at one end of the road, dangling wires at another. Over the years, the brains soldiersthis well-trained and reliable army, which has done so much, on so many different terrains, gone high and low, swum, climbed, strolled, and marched to all the different destinations of the mindbegin to falter, long before outsiders can see the troubles. Eventually (five years on for some, three for others, ten for some), the obstacles cannot be overcome. Messages cannot be received.

In Love by Amy Bloom