A professor once told me that the hardest part about quitting smoking is that you have spent all your moments, both good and bad, with cigarettes. Whether something good or bad happens, the first thing that comes to mind is a cigarette, making it incredibly difficult to quit. I have never smoked in my life, but the story deeply resonates.

There are many ways to recall a memory, but I collect little things. I have kept every object I am attached to—electronic devices, photos, note files, everything from the moment I was born. For example, after this summer’s trip, I returned with all 19 flight tickets, receipts, and papers. While tying memories to objects can take me to a specific moment, it falls short of evoking a shared sense of emotion and longing in my daily life. This realization made me consider: I need a memory as potent as a cigarette, something to hold onto through life’s highs and lows.

To find this, I noticed how the memories from last summer’s trip to Türkiye, Georgia, Greece, and Poland are tied to music. When I listen to the albums I had on repeat, the sensation of the journey returns and tows me forward. The ones I listened to most were Frank Ocean’s Blonde and Lana Del Rey’s Norman’s Fucking Rockwell!. Even if these songs are not enough to take me to a single instant, they are an excellent medium for recalling the feelings of those memories. But I still felt something was missing.

Reflecting further, I realized that for this summer’s trip to South America, my method of remembering has changed again: now, it centers on people. While I received much hospitality during last year’s trip, this journey connected me with people at every moment. Although the activities I did on the trip were not much different from those in my daily life, I had people by my side this time.

We walked in the park, rode the subway, washed a pot with burnt rice, drank together, went for drives, shopped at the market, watched movies, attended classes, rode bikes, and did the laundry. These memories are not tied to a specific place but are all scenes from an ordinary life. They surface unexpectedly and take me back to that time.

There were special moments, too. Dining at one of the world’s best steakhouses and parting in a taxi brought a sense of euphoria and loss. A meal at the ambassador’s residence with the Korean Ambassador to Chile gave me a feeling of attachment to the familiar. And when I was suffering from food poisoning in the 5,000-meter highlands, I felt comfort in the worried faces and gratitude for the helping hands. They were all special experiences, but the universal feelings within them are what I truly long for.

Buenos Aires, Iguazu Falls, Machu Picchu, Peru’s Huayhuash Circuit, and the magnificent Andes mountains of Santiago are the backdrops for these memories. Yet, the people are what make me long for them. These activities are so universal, which is precisely why I think of them so often and miss them so dearly. I’ve never been to Brazil, but no Portuguese word captures this longing better than “Saudade.”

Special experiences can change a person, but the memories that shape our character are not the extraordinary ones. What truly keeps us going is the memories of the most ordinary moments shared with people. Amid daily life and feelings, I miss every memory from my travels.

How do you recall your memories? I want to be able to pull out my memories and smoke them anytime, just like a cigarette. I want to smoke.