We should value stories more than any jewel in this world…because it is through random stories, shared with a cup of tea or a bottle of beer at some random alley or some bar down the street, that we make pieces of our lives outlive us.
I believe we die twice. First is when our heart gives up beating and the next is when the last person in the world who knows us dies.
Nothing in this world of madness lasts forever; which means all our trophies and achievements will one day vanish along with our favorite places, our favorite seasons. All that will ever be left is a memory. A memory of a girl who once loved to write so much she bled her soul through pen…A memory of the soldier who died in combat against terrorists..A memory of a mother, who once was a daughter catching snowflakes, watching them melt..A memory of so many first kisses, so many goodbyes, so many hellos.
This is reality. We cannot preserve so much of us for time to carry to infinity. What we can do is to tell and listen to as many stories as we can. This way, we give parts of ourselves at the same time receive parts of someone else.
So when we die, our lives will not be measured by the years we live but by the infinite stories we have lived to share.