You don’t remember days you scrolled through. You remember days you were in.

Memory needs something to hold on to, and scrolling supplies almost nothing: no place, no body, no people, no surprise. Hours can pass and leave no mark, which is how a whole afternoon vanishes without a trace while twenty minutes outdoors stays for years. It is not that one is virtuous and the other wicked. One simply leaves a record.

Put one thing in this week that will still be in your head in July. Walk somewhere new, swim in cold water, make something, see a friend in person. Thirty minutes of being in a place beats four hours of looking at one.