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We Forget

For a long time now, I have been convinced that we forget things. Not just inconsequential details, but things that matter. Whole moments. Massive swathes of time get lost, or more precisely, replaced, by the present situation we find ourselves in, and by new passions and priorities.
I think it is like having a small library in your home, full of books you have acquired here and there. Once you finish reading a new book, you store it away in a bookcase, and it might take years but eventually, you fill that bookcase. Then you start a new one next to it, and continue to grow your collection indefinitely. But as you acquire and read new books and then store them away, there are books in your bookcases that you no longer pay attention to. Their narratives no longer play out in your mind. Even some of the books you thoroughly enjoyed, books that moved you, or had something profound to say, they never come to mind any more, because you've got newer books, and all sorts of other pursuit…

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