Imagine your memory is an art gallery or a history museum - filled with exhibitions with different themes.
Like every museum, even your memory needs a guide - leading you through the exhibition - pointing out interesting facts about each artefact and narrating funny anecdotes that one would never understand with just a picture. "And this picture was taken when the camera fell from her hands because a busker on the Champs Elysee frightened her."
So in this museum in my mind, who is the guide? I like to think my little black book, my little diary is my guide. It contains a blow-by-blow account of the trip and I can write exactly what I saw and did, who I met and talked to and of course, what I was thinking at that minute. After all, even though a picture is worth a thousand words, sometimes, even that isn't enough, is it?
But I have often asked myself - why bother? Why bother building the museum? Why bother trying to remember every minute? This doubt reaches its peak when instead of sleeping on the beach in the glorious sunshine, I am desperately trying to note down what happened yesterday. Is it worth ruining the now to remember the past? Well, obviously the past must have been fantastic enough for me to want to document it.
I guess its just me desperately trying to hold on to my memories, hold on to the good times a bit longer. To continue the museum train of thought, this is essentially the same rationale for the success of gift shops and souveneir shops. People like to have something that reminds them of what they learnt or saw. I am like that one child clutching tightly at the cheap souveneir toy even though I know I would probably have lost it or forgotten it by the evening. That may have sounded far more depressing than was intended. Forgetting would be depressing but I don't want to forget - hence, the diary, the little black book. Therefore, keeping a diary is a sign of hope, something that will always help you remember.
As you might have guessed by now, if you are still with me, this is an ode to my diary. The one that got lost. My little companion traveled with me all over the world and contains an entire wing of the museum in my mind. And I lost him. If I were still in the place where I lost him, I would put up LOST notices all over that would probably read something like this:
