Remember those summer evenings, when there was nothing more important than the moment you lived in. When the light could still reach you without distortion, bright and enigmatic. Those moments lost with every blink. Those sounds still echoing. Somewhere deep down they still exist, waiting, creeping, to transfer, to upload onto a better drive, a healthier life. They told you it was repetitive, an unending cycle, abysmal data rate, you were told it was imperative, inevitable. Then why was the connection severed? The mind goes numb, right before the memory upload failure.