There are types of photos I thought I couldn't resist shooting,

that I loved returning to as if perusing my ten-year-old diary,
that I collected and rarely shared and stowed away in boxes opened just often enough to make me glad I saved them,

photos that, over the last couple of years, I resisted shooting in small moments

and then resisted shooting in most moments

and then entirely forgot to shoot.

I forgot to make the photos that made me happy, reminded me of the day because the day was lovely.
The photos themselves? Sometimes interesting, mostly not much more than archival detritus.

However, one look at the flat, two-dimensional images and the surrounding, unpictured details come back.
The floor of (remembered or imagined) history becomes paved before me, encourages me to step.

Perhaps I build too many fences between my joyous moments and my conscious memory. 

I discount the best days after they happen. 

Not because they weren't good enough to remember 

but because I believe they were too good to forget.

And then I forget.

This month broke many old habits & expectations for me.

But, more importantly, it reignited a few of my favorites also.