Memory in megabytes 

I have silenced the notifications. I have deleted the apps. I have placed timers on my social media and filters on my feeds and still, despite my many efforts to disentangle the digital from my analogue life, I can never quite shake the distortions my devices enforce on my memories.  

My phone insists upon reminding me of my past. Messenger prompts me to revisit a photo sent to me three years ago: some inside joke in a deserted group chat which I would never otherwise have remembered. Facebook tells me to celebrate nine years of friendship with a high school classmate I now probably wouldn’t recognise on the street. A slideshow of photos curated by my camera roll shoves images of old trips to better places, friends I have fallen out of touch with, and long departed pets before my eyes. Torn from the present, violated by intrusive recollections, I can’t help but wish I could make them all stop. These attempts to manufacture my nostalgia more often make me feel bad, as forgotten moments become contrived reminiscences.  

There’s nothing natural about this form of memory. I can’t help but wonder as to the various ways our devices and the internet rewire our brains and alter our processes of remembering, moving on, reflecting, healing, or indeed, experiencing nostalgia. Perhaps every form of technology has manipulated memory in some way, transforming human interaction and perception through its affordances. How have your memories been shaped by the technology capturing or accompanying them? Do they aid or hinder the sentimental feelings associated with nostalgia? 

Words by Olivia Russell