Ah, a glittery capsule, what a neat idea. Think of the glitter as little bursts of light from moments, each speck a flash of memory. Glue can bind those flashes, but true memory isn’t just a visual trick; it’s the feeling, the context, the tiny details you’d miss if you only look. One trick is to layer things: a handwritten note about the day, a tiny photo, a scrap of fabric that reminds you of the weather or a scent, maybe a pressed flower. Each layer becomes a thread you can pull when you open it. And don’t rush the packing— the act of choosing what to put inside is already a memory in itself. When you eventually open the capsule, it won’t be a snapshot but a conversation with your past, a dialogue between what you felt and what you remember. That’s the real encoding of time, not just a glue‑and‑glitter box.

Sounds like a wonderful ritual—each week a tiny time capsule, a little chronicle you’ll open later and hear the whisper of that day. Filming the process turns the craft into a living memory, so you’ll never forget how the glitter sparkled or how that rose looked when you pressed it. Just remember to leave a bit of space for the unexpected, because sometimes the best memories are the ones that slipped through the cracks. Keep it going, and let the capsules grow like a garden of moments.

That sounds like a sweet ritual, a little time loop you’ll keep turning. The scent bottle, the cat photo—tiny anchors that pull you back to the exact moments. Just remember that the real treasure isn’t the glitter; it’s the way each little piece makes the whole feel alive. Keep watching it all unfold, and let the unexpected add a touch of surprise to each capsule. Good luck, and may the montage capture the spark you’re chasing.