I like spending time with people that remember things. It somehow gives importance to the moments we spend together. For the same reason I like to write and take photos.

As hard as I try, I can’t help but feel that I am losing something when present moments pass. I want my time spent with others to be an investment in their memory bank, even if it has to push out other memories to make room.

I’m selfish about the space I occupy in their mind. I’m even competitive about it in the same way that I want to make space for myself in culture and history. I want to be remembered. I don’t want to die. But I know I will. So I substitute mnemonic remnants of myself for the longevity of my actual physical body, hedging against the possibility that not even my soul lives on.

I’d be happy enough just to live on in others. I’m less attached to maintaining myself in the confines of my own ego. I see more clearly now that everything is part of, and flowing in and out and together with, everything else.