We live in a culture, a time, obsessed with visual documentation. If there is no photographic evidence then there is no authentic memory. Our memories are now saved on a hard-drive or in the cloud rather than in our own hearts. The ego bursts the bounds of body and mind and floods into an Instagram stream. When I hear people say, having revisited old haunts, "So disappointing! Not how I remember it at all," then I think, "Lucky you! You had, at one time, an inner life."