Back when we kept pictures in photo albums,
We stored memories behind plastic covers or glass panes.
In fear of misplacing or wrecking them,
We kept them tucked away somewhere safe.
Over time, corners would fold
Edges would crumple or become stained by spilled tea,
But these memories were protected, more or less.
They remained far away. Separate from us.
They remained where they should be – in the past.
Now, in the age of newsfeeds and numbers
They never leave us;
Easily accessible reminders of what we’ve lost.
Photos are crumpled by obsession
Memories are stained by emotion.