...is still progress, right?
I'm honestly starting to think that that's the best way to look at life.
Everything in life is about movement, whether physical or figurative.
No one would argue with me that physical movement defines a good chunk of our lives: depending on what places we are forced to commute, we identify ourselves as students, workers, shoppers, patients, etc.; depending on where in the world we live, we consider ourselves as a member of that city, country, continent.
But the figurative moving, the moving on from one part of our lives to the next is equally, if not more important. And whatever it is that forces us to move forward is often something that we don't want to part from.
As time goes by the longing for what is no longer, or that that never was, seems to fade. Because that's how life goes. But see a photo of someone who meant so much to you so long ago, seeing a photo of that person in the here and now, without you and without the need for you, somehow that always makes you go back a step.
This isn't limited to past loves or anything like that either. Friends and places change just as much over time. And it doesn't have to be with a photo either. But photos hit you hard. Because you see the change. Or the lack there of.
And you're instantly transported back. Not back in time, but back to a previous stage of your life that is no longer. Because every memory you have is attached to what no longer exists in this world.
But we're still moving forward. Because we have no other choice.
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