What were we doing in this stilled second? What were we thinking? Perhaps of our appearance in future perusals? Will this picture make us laugh or cry? At present, we are indifferent.
Later on down life's timeline, with wrinkles on our faces, the pictures trembling in our aged fingers, we may reminisce nostalgically. Our blurred brains will fly back to youth and its pure hope. Foreign reality will break through with its dead dreams, lost friends, and hollow happinesses. The present world will then appear gray next to memory's vividness.
And, at that moment, we may be ready for death.
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