In Sequent Toil Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, So do our minutes hasten to their end; Each changing place with that which goes before, In sequent toil all forwards do contend. - Shakespeare's Sonnet 60 When making this book, I couldn't help but wonder: Whose memories and experiences of our time will become part of documented history? And which memories will be washed away with the waves of time? sc💙
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