How is it possible that I can repeatedly capture so much beauty, love, and joy yet still somehow lose track of each of them all the same? Sometimes I scroll through my phone’s photos and can hardly believe the memories crammed within all the 1s and 0s. When did this become my life? How many photos do I have to take before I stop losing track? Or is it necessary and good to be forced to seek out and re-remember that “ah yes, this life can be so good” (perhaps this seeking out reinforces the mental pathway)? What a gift it is to be able to take photos that can double as these powerful reminders.
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