I am of the generation who has seen the way we store our memories evolve radically.
When I was a young child, when I wanted to know what I was like as a baby, down from a safe shelf
would come the albums, full of black and white photos, carefully mounted to the pages with fragile
black paper adhesive corners. These were images that substituted for remembrance. They themselves
became proxy memories. Today, if I look at these pictures, I remember only looking at these pictures.