Because it’s not the photographing and sharing and broadcasting that makes something what it is. It’s the doing. The being. The experience of it. The wonderfully unfunny joke your son tells you, or the smile of a stranger on the street, the day out, the blue-sky Saturday, the unexpected kindness, or one of a thousand other things that make it worth getting out of bed in the morning. That’s the truth. That’s what’s real.
