07.16.02 - 2:51 p.m.

My mom sent me this picture, circa 1983. That's my brother on the left, me on the right. We were Spiderman OGs!

When I was doing the Artist's Way, one of our assignments was to write letters to ourselves at ages eighty and ten. I had no idea what to say to either version of me.

Occasionally I get this feeling of great sadness, when I think of time passing and the infinity of details we lose. I claim no easy familiarity with the past. Some days I go crazy taking pictures and writing down what happened, trying desperately to nail down the present. But no amount of documentation can preserve exactly what it's like to exist in this precise moment. In time, even these words will belong to a stranger.