I'm doing a photo-essay in school, and it's forcing me to reflect on the things I truly value in life. School, causing me to think-that's a first. Still, I'm not sure it's what I truly value. Maybe it's a sequel to my favorite things. Not much of it matters to anyone else. It matters to me. And the more I think about it, the less it makes sense. I'm focusing on what makes me content, even happy. Moments in time are never repeated; and I think that living, not repeating, is what should make sense. When so many things in life are repetitive; so slightly varied that you can barely tell one day from the next, one moment from the other; maybe moments should be taken more seriously.
Everything about those moments: the sounds, the emotions, the mood, the smells, the energy; the physical and the mental should be recognized, appreciated, and absorbed. If no two moments are the same, then each one should be celebrated. Don't get me wrong, familiarity isn't a bad thing. Familiarity is part of a moment though. It's part of what I wouldn't mind taking with me. And let's be realistic: not all moments are good. Some of them should be shut up in boxes, shipped to France and dumped in the sewers of Paris, for all I care. It would be better that way. But you can't send a moment to some disgusting city and hope it will disappear; moments have their ways of sticking to your mind. But at least you know that a moment like that will never be experienced again.
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