ABSTRACT
“O! call back yesterday, bid time return,” cries Salisbury in Shakespeare’s Richard II, bearing the king dire news. Yearning for restoration is age-old. So is faith in its advent. “Every city and village and field will be restored, just as it was,” foretold a fourth-century ecclesiastic. 1 From divine fulfillment, restoration devolved into human agency. “Not a thing in the past has not left its memories,” mused H.G. Wells. “Some day we may learn to gather in that forgotten gossamer, … weave its strands together again, until the whole past is restored to us.” 2
