Nothing Gold Can Last (or how a beautiful moment is a sad soliloquy in the works)

I took a break this afternoon from my slowly and poorly evolving dissertation to glance through some old family photo albums.  The past is amazing and beautiful and so tinged with a faint-but-ever-present sadness.  But it's a beautiful, sweet, poetic kind of sadness; people's frozen fearless smiles hide a myriad of dreams that would never come true, and dated outfits conceal wounds and insecurities that you will never know about the people you thought you knew completely.

Nostalgia is about remembering, but in a way, it is also about knowing.  Knowing better now, in the present.  And knowing that you know nothing, still, like then, when you thought you knew everything.

Awesome haircuts, too.