Some things survive because someone keeps telling them.
Field Notes
A story carries more than what happened. It carries the voice that tells it—the rhythm, the details chosen, what is left unsaid, and a particular way of seeing the world. Each time it is told, another person enters it, and the story becomes both memory and something living.
Every telling is a small handoff between people. In a time filled with endless information, storytellers remind us that meaning cannot always be downloaded or summarized. Sometimes it has to pass slowly from one living person to another—changing slightly as it goes, but continuing.