What We Choose to Remember
Hello, Dear Stranger!
Between the idea and the reality falls the shadow.
I’ve lived most of my life in that shadow — a place where memories whisper louder than the ticking of any clock. I listened because they needed me to. They talked, and I couldn’t turn away.
After all, time was never a friend. It cared little for parting words or final goodbyes.
As a young girl, I said goodbye to too many people I loved. Before I knew it, I was always going everywhere, yet belonging nowhere.
I come from a family of clockmakers and inherited a very particular gift — one that changed everything. It brought both pain and clarity, grief and grace. Because love, I learned, is measured not in minutes, but in what we’re willing to give up for someone else.
My choices always circled back to one thing: my happiness traded for a solution to my problems.
I was a girl who saved memories from being destroyed by men with guns and a false sense of authority.
And so I began saving what I could — not time, but people, moments, the fragile threads that hold them together. I came to understand that time is an intentional thing. When you care for it, it has a way of caring for you in return.
So if this letter ever reaches you, remember this: you cannot hold time still — it will slip away regardless — but the memories you tend to, the ones rooted in love, will outlast them all. Protect the ones that matter. Let the rest fade quietly.
Oh, how fragile time is,
Lisavet Levy
This letter was inspired by the book The Book of Lost Hours by Hayley Gelfuso.
A few lines slipped directly from its pages:
Between the idea and the reality falls the shadow.
After all, time was never a friend. It cared little for parting words or final goodbyes.
I was always going everywhere, yet belonging nowhere.
My happiness traded for a solution to my problems.
I was a girl who saved memories from being destroyed by men with guns and a false sense of authority.
When you care for it, it has a way of caring for you in return.
Short Content Brew:
Not every story brews the same. This one moves like time itself — bending, looping, and pausing in places you least expect. It’s adventurous, mysterious, and quietly demanding of your focus as memories and moments slip between past and present. A blend that lingers long after the last page, reminding you that while we can’t control time, we can choose the memories that live on.
The Cup We’d Share
Consider this a moment to sit down with Lisavet Levy, surrounded by the quiet hum of ticking clocks and the soft scent of tea. The Authenticitea Barista (a character from my upcoming book, A Cup of Authenticitea) would pour something fitting for her story — a blend that honors time, memory, and the fragile balance between loss and love. It’s a cup meant for slow sips and reflection, a reminder that even when time slips away, the memories we hold can still keep us warm.
A Sip of Memory
Tea Blend: Earl Grey + Chamomile
Mood Pairing: For moments when time feels slippery, and you want to slow it down long enough to remember.
Flavor Note: Soft citrus wrapped in calm — floral, familiar, and slightly haunting in its sweetness.
Reflection: What memories do you keep tending to, even as time tries to pull them away?
Why This Letter
I was drawn to A Book of Lost Hours because it made me think about the current attacks and attempts to erase our history — and even our present. Books pulled from shelves. Artifacts removed from museums. Stories rewritten or silenced.
Lisavet’s words reminded me that while we can’t stop time or control what others choose to forget, we can protect what matters most — the memories, the truth, and the love that connects us through generations.
This letter slipped from a place of disappointment, assurance, and hope — a quiet reminder that preservation starts with remembering.
That’s the sip I’ll leave you with today. Thanks for reading — until the next page.
