Everything is in the past

Nothing ever happened.
It was always a much more mental, powerful and rather grave cerebral experience. Capturing those real, fleeting moods, moments in life that happen everyday to everyday people. There was no climax or meaning. Life usually appears dull in those instances. Things in life and time usually flash so fast before you know it, like a blink of an eye or a snapshot from a camera. It's similiar to a photograph; images of new, different places you go, things beautifully captured on film, but the actual story behind pictures is usually not as mysterious, exciting or pretty in form, in reality to you. Doing things, trying to live in the moment and really have fun, or look like you're having fun, but you're worrying too much. Killing time, but always aware of time, how can you really enjoy the moment?
Those places you've been and visited away from home or anywhere you feel at home or felt at home, or never really existed for you, usually look a lot better on film, mementos, not because of sweet, beautiful nostalgia of the moment itself, but you can see more from a distance - the whole picture, meaningful with time passing, you getting older etc. You begin to appreciably remember it more like as a remarkable play.
Strange familiarity, the familiar strange.
A new way of seeing the past. A memory, the feeling that you can always recall in your mind, because of a particular mood you felt at a time, or a lot, that somehow stood out in your life for a reason... Being there but not really there at the exact moment it actually happened; a stranger to everything. It's surreal like a dream in a sense, dream walking and dream talking.