BY ANOTHER.

THE PARTIAL OR COMPLETE , RELATIVE TO A DESIGNATED OBSERVER, OF ONE CELESTIAL BODY

When we remember, what is it that we’re remembering? Do we try to recapture the appearance of a moment, like a photograph or a postcard that shows us a perfect still image of a point in time? Do we try to incorporate motion, a movie reel that we can fast-forward, pause, and rewind at will? Do we concentrate on the feeling and the emotion and let the more visual detail fade back into a secondary background? And whatever we do, how do we get there? Do we rely on a word, a phrase, a sound, a smell, an object? Or do we just say, now is the time to remember, and leave it at that?

It’s comforting to think that our brain functions much like a camera: we see something, we take a picture, we develop it somewhere in the crevices of our mind, and we can take it out again whenever we want. Or, we can even press the video function and record however many minutes of action we see fit, and then store the media to peruse at a future time. And indeed, for a very, very select few individuals, that seems to be exactly how it works. These people are the super-remembers, who have a condition known as hyperthymesia, an ability to recall the most minute details from any day, on demand. But to date, only six people with the condition have been confirmed. For the rest of us, the picture is quite different.

When we remember, what is it that we’re remembering? Do we try to recapture the appearance of a moment, like a photograph or a postcard that shows us a perfect still image of a point in time? Do we try to incorporate motion, a movie reel that we can fast-forward, pause, and rewind at will? Do we concentrate on the feeling and the emotion and let the more visual detail fade back into a secondary background? And whatever we do, how do we get there? Do we rely on a word, a phrase, a sound, a smell, an object? Or do we just say, now is the time to remember, and leave it at that?

It’s comforting to think that our brain functions much like a camera: we see something, we take a picture, we develop it somewhere in the crevices of our mind, and we can take it out again whenever we want. Or, we can even press the video function and record however many minutes of action we see fit, and then store the media to peruse at a future time. And indeed, for a very, very select few individuals, that seems to be exactly how it works. These people are the super-remembers, who have a condition known as hyperthymesia, an ability to recall the most minute details from any day, on demand. But to date, only six people with the condition have been confirmed. For the rest of us, the picture is quite different.

time crumbles things; everything grows old under the power of time and is forgotten through the lapse of time

When we remember, what is it that we’re remembering? Do we try to recapture the appearance of a moment, like a photograph or a postcard that shows us a perfect still image of a point in time? Do we try to incorporate motion, a movie reel that we can fast-forward, pause, and rewind at will? Do we concentrate on the feeling and the emotion and let the more visual detail fade back into a secondary background? And whatever we do, how do we get there? Do we rely on a word, a phrase, a sound, a smell, an object? Or do we just say, now is the time to remember, and leave it at that?

It’s comforting to think that our brain functions much like a camera: we see something, we take a picture, we develop it somewhere in the crevices of our mind, and we can take it out again whenever we want. Or, we can even press the video function and record however many minutes of action we see fit, and then store the media to peruse at a future time. And indeed, for a very, very select few individuals, that seems to be exactly how it works. These people are the super-remembers, who have a condition known as hyperthymesia, an ability to recall the most minute details from any day, on demand. But to date, only six people with the condition have been confirmed. For the rest of us, the picture is quite different.

When we remember, what is it that we’re remembering? Do we try to recapture the appearance of a moment, like a photograph or a postcard that shows us a perfect still image of a point in time? Do we try to incorporate motion, a movie reel that we can fast-forward, pause, and rewind at will? Do we concentrate on the feeling and the emotion and let the more visual detail fade back into a secondary background? And whatever we do, how do we get there? Do we rely on a word, a phrase, a sound, a smell, an object? Or do we just say, now is the time to remember, and leave it at that?

It’s comforting to think that our brain functions much like a camera: we see something, we take a picture, we develop it somewhere in the crevices of our mind, and we can take it out again whenever we want. Or, we can even press the video function and record however many minutes of action we see fit, and then store the media to peruse at a future time. And indeed, for a very, very select few individuals, that seems to be exactly how it works. These people are the super-remembers, who have a condition known as hyperthymesia, an ability to recall the most minute details from any day, on demand. But to date, only six people with the condition have been confirmed. For the rest of us, the picture is quite different.

An exciting truth may be eclipsed by a thrilling lie

AddPencil inUncoverFall BehindLay bareIlluminateBe InferiorFail

I like to think of it as the analogy between a camera and a journal. Imagine you are walking along when you see something that captures your attention. It can be an object. It can be a person. It can be a scene. An expression on someone’s face. It can be anything at all, so long as you decide it is worthy of note and significant enough for you to want to remember it for the future. You reach for your camera, only to realize you don’t have one with you (and you’ve left your phone at home, too, so no built-in camera is handy). But you do have a pen and paper. So, you decide to write down what you’re seeing so that you’ll remember it for later, maybe to share with someone else, maybe for your own personal benefit.

Most people have so-called flashbulb memories of where they were and what they were doing when something momentous happened: the assassination of President John F. Kennedy, say, or the explosion of the space shuttle Challenger. (Unfortunately, staggeringly terrible news seems to come out of the blue more often than staggeringly good news.) But as clear and detailed as these memories feel, psychologists find they are surprisingly inaccurate.

Nader, now a neuroscientist at McGill University in Montreal, says his memory of the World Trade Center attack has played a few tricks on him. He recalled seeing television footage on September 11 of the first plane hitting the north tower of the World Trade Center. But he was surprised to learn that such footage aired for the first time the following day. Apparently he wasn’t alone: a 2003 study of 569 college students found that 73 percent shared this misperception.

Nader believes he may have an explanation for such quirks of memory. His ideas are unconventional within neuroscience, and they have caused researchers to reconsider some of their most basic assumptions about how memory works.

I like to think of it as the analogy between a camera and a journal. Imagine you are walking along when you see something that captures your attention. It can be an object. It can be a person. It can be a scene. An expression on someone’s face. It can be anything at all, so long as you decide it is worthy of note and significant enough for you to want to remember it for the future. You reach for your camera, only to realize you don’t have one with you (and you’ve left your phone at home, too, so no built-in camera is handy). But you do have a pen and paper. So, you decide to write down what you’re seeing so that you’ll remember it for later, maybe to share with someone else, maybe for your own personal benefit.

Most people have so-called flashbulb memories of where they were and what they were doing when something momentous happened: the assassination of President John F. Kennedy, say, or the explosion of the space shuttle Challenger. (Unfortunately, staggeringly terrible news seems to come out of the blue more often than staggeringly good news.) But as clear and detailed as these memories feel, psychologists find they are surprisingly inaccurate.

Nader, now a neuroscientist at McGill University in Montreal, says his memory of the World Trade Center attack has played a few tricks on him. He recalled seeing television footage on September 11 of the first plane hitting the north tower of the World Trade Center. But he was surprised to learn that such footage aired for the first time the following day. Apparently he wasn’t alone: a 2003 study of 569 college students found that 73 percent shared this misperception.

Nader believes he may have an explanation for such quirks of memory. His ideas are unconventional within neuroscience, and they have caused researchers to reconsider some of their most basic assumptions about how memory works.

I believe the old buildings have a soul and when I photograph these places I try to capture a piece of that soul