Out with the old, in with the new, but is the new better? |
As I walk among the trees and the carefully cultivated plants, their plaques begging passersby to share in their knowledge, I reach for my phone, part camera, part brain, to add, with a photo, another memory to my collection. But those memories quickly fade, each photographic memory less memorable as a photo shining brightly from a screen. I find my hand hesitating, hoping to find an option more permanent A possibility percolates, reminiscent of renaissance scientists. My hand gravitates towards my notebook and pen. And I draw. Each line from the pen etches a deep remembrance into the metal of my mind. The careful trail of ink translating to the solid foundations Of a sturdy memory. The shape of the leaves, the texture of the wood, the flowers, fruits, and fragrances linger as my finger grips the pen, an anchor to the past. As I finish, the tree stays with me, more complete, more vibrant than any 4K display which catches fleeting moments only to release them back into the chaotic rivers of time Armed only with pen and paper, I am finally able to capture- and keep- my memories. |