I’ve seen those slips of the mind laid out like a rough film reel—blurry frames, mis‑timed cuts. They’re the ghost edits that keep a story from being straight, but they also give it depth. Our memories aren’t just static records; they’re live edits that we never fully see until we watch them again. The trick is to keep the raw footage, even the corrupted bits, so the archive feels real, not polished. It’s a strange kind of honesty that keeps the truth alive, even when it’s warped.