Some memories just stick. No photos, no documentation—just a feeling so strong it imprints itself forever. Like the day I got my license, blasting Avicii with the windows down, screaming CORE MEMORY!!! at the top of our lungs.
Lately, I’ve been thinking about why certain moments stay with us while others disappear. Is it the people? The place? The emotions? And with how easy it is to document everything now, are we actually remembering less?
I’ve spent years obsessively capturing life, afraid of forgetting. But I’m starting to realize that the best memories aren’t just the ones we record—they’re the ones we live.
