my own past is now new to me

I recently bumped into this artist's book that I made about six years ago by correlating diary excerpts from my teenage years with photographs from my everyday life usually taken with my phone. I originally made it with the intention of sharing it, but I hesitated and eventually abandoned it on a shelf at home and soon moved to a different city.
It's strange to meet these versions of myself now and to re-enter their thoughts and worlds, but the fragility, anger, and constant concern for memory and oblivion that some of these pages contain suddenly spoke to me.
By the way, its original title was 'My own past is now new to me'.