 their tendrilic bodies spread out in tangled mats across fields of crops like millions of plant draculae, sinking their tiny teeth into their victims' elongated necks. The winding daughter counting its coils is enacting a sort of living memory through movement. Memory is a way to store what you learn about where you live, the dangers and opportunities your world has to offer. Learning is an evolutionary strategy for survival, like the mallow that turns its head toward the sun.