A big part of our identity is the result of our recollection of past experiences.  The sum of these habits is the person we are today.

Perhaps you’re especially great with kids and have a history of patience towards young animals.  Because of this, you might consider yourself as destined to be a teacher, parent, or caretaker.

Memory can be quite the faulty mistress.  What if it holds you back?  What if it creates a sort of pre-destiny, a self-fulfilling prophecy that prevents you from exercising free choice?

This is what Terminator 2 forced me to consider.  I found myself wondering about Sarah Connor and the life that was seemingly assigned to her by the future John Connor.  Did she choose the life of a battle hero, or was it chosen for her by memories handed down from the future?

Such a line of logic bled into my assessment of Light of Other Days.  Would knowledge of technology that preserves a moment take away the pleasure of an experience?

I found myself considering the effect of cell phones.  They function as a sort of “slow glass”, letting us bottle up and replay some chunk of time.  Though I love the potential to save something meaningful, it creates space between the moment and me.  The holding of a photo captures the event exactly as it was, but it also becomes a kind of binding sentence that’s kept in the record of your mind forever, untouchable, unchanging.