Another calendar on the wall, another bottle of milk in the fridge, another New Year's resolution and another book that became favorite. I lived more than 9000 days. What can I say about them? What is left after them in me? Did my memory store all the most important memories and I just forgot the password to access them? Even though I'm quite scared of the vision of the future where everyone will have a chip under skin, it could be a great record of each day of my life.
How many books did I read? How many I left unfinished? How many of them bored me and which one amused me?
How many different dishes I tried so far? What is the dish I ate the most often?
How many people I met in my life? How many of them influenced me in any way? How many of them I loved or hated?
Plenty of possible questions. But answers for them will get lost in the passing time as quick as all the memories, covered with the new ones. I hope that I'll never have to answer a question that they ask in court in American movies: "Where were you and what did you do on 17th of February in 1999?". Doesn't matter the date, ask me what I did at the same time two weeks ago and I'll be stuck in the labyrinth of my memory.
Sometimes I'm holding my breath, closing my eyes and thinking to myself: "Now, keep this moment forever in your memory!" and for how long it stays in my head? Maybe half of a day. And in the end, all I have is always the moment that I'm in.
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