I’ve been taking photos with my Dad’s old film camera. I know a lot of good-looking people and some very beautiful bits of grass to sit on.
This camera makes sure I remember the beautiful moments and I hope that when I look back in ten years I’ll have forgotten the ugly ones.
Perhaps we don’t always live in the present moment, but we do live in remembered moments. Anticipated moments. Our lives are constructed of moments which are composed into some coherent thread in retrospect and sometimes by intent.
This is an arsey rewording of a remarkable passage in The Unbearable Lightness of Being. It’s a good book.