We expect the past to look distant. Blurred at the edges, softly lit, safely locked away in another time. But then a photo appears. It is crisp, clear, and strangely current.
A young woman walks with a camera in her hand. Her jeans fit like any worn today. The light catches her hair the same way it does now. Nothing feels old. She could have just passed us on the street.
That is the dissonance. It is not the past that changed. It is how close it suddenly feels.
Youth is not something we own. It is something we borrow. When old images reflect our present, memory becomes more than nostalgia. It becomes recognition.
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