Memories are odd. We abjectly cling to translucent and foggy synapsed which continuously grow with more files. They are never clear memories. It is clear. We take photo's and videos in order to allow us to delve into the past, a bygone era of our lives which will never be relived. I am as guilty if not more so of clinging to the past. I adore the past. I study it, break it down and reinvent it in order to bring some meaning to my actions or lack thereof. Yet I can't shake the feeling that despite all my intellectualizing I am wasting my time. Those feelings pass quickly as I rationalize the importance of the past but I often return to my previous thoughts and wonder. How I wonder.
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