These narratives slip into our subconscious. We take them for granted, but they are – like it or not – the very foundations of who we are.
I love the idea that our thoughts, our reactions, and our very identities are built by stories.
These bits and pieces of family legend, shared experiences, and local folklore give this place we call home its history and identity. From blue collar to bluebloods, each of us brings our own stories, adding to the depth and personality of this little town.
I also love how she says that these stories don’t just come into us and shape us, but that the relationship is reciprocal – we use what we’ve become to shape the world around us and create new stories in a communal way.
The stories don’t even have to be entirely true.
I wonder if the stories actually can be true. I wonder if the story might be truer in some ways than the truth – since the story version is what sticks with us while the “real” version is never fully recorded in its context, but only retained as it is ripped from its place in reality and kept as a fragment. I feel like Walter Benjamin’s Arcades Project would be relevant here, but that’s an essay for another time.