Nothing Worth Remembering Ever Stays the Same
That's the quiet deception of a photograph. It freezes a person while life refuses to.
We often say we want to "capture a moment," but perhaps the reason moments feel valuable is because they never stay that way.
The longer I think about stories, the less convinced I become that they're about heroes, villains, romance, conflict, or even resolution.
I wonder if stories exist because change exists.
Before We Learned to Read, We Learned to Listen
You tell a story.
You begin somewhere. You skip over things that didn't matter. You linger on the parts that did. You create tension. You introduce people. You imitate voices. You build toward a moment worth telling. Without realizing it, you've edited reality into something another human being can carry with them.
It makes me wonder if stories were ever something we invented.
Or if they were simply something we discovered—like gravity or fire—because they had been quietly shaping us all along.