I would love it if AI could fill our family photo albums with all those
precious, everyday moments of intimacy. Moments like Giui playing World of
Warcraft in the living room, with Sara sitting on one side of him and Julien on
the other, watching. Or, Julien and Sara perched on the windowsill, observing
the construction site below. Or, the morning sun dancing through the steam of
my tea as I write in my diary on a summer day.
Writing the letter for Sara’s 30th birthday made me realize how few photos we have of our everyday family life. Why did the camera only appear on vacations or at big family gatherings? I suppose it was because I was too shy to bob around with a camera.
Writing the letter for Sara’s 30th birthday made me realize how few photos we have of our everyday family life. Why did the camera only appear on vacations or at big family gatherings? I suppose it was because I was too shy to bob around with a camera.
This was long before smartphones, Instagram, or selfies—back when the idea of capturing seemingly insignificant moments felt almost preposterous.
The phrase “making a mountain out of a molehill” comes to mind. And, admittedly, nothing dispels the quiet magic of play or solitude faster than the intrusive click of a camera lens.
That’s why I wish AI could be a silent observer—an invisible lens in my mind—capturing those past moments, shaping memories into form, painting them with light and colour.
So, where is that memories.ai app?
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