How do you keep track of the places you've been?

Me? I mix it up. Photos catch the vibe — the light, the chaos, the random chai stall that hit harder than any 5-star café. Maps keep it honest — a quiet little archive of “yeah, I was actually there.” And sometimes, it’s just memory… raw, imperfect, fading at the edges. But here’s the truth no one likes to admit: You do forget places. Not the big ones. Not the “first time” moments. But the small streets, the detours, the half-hour stops that once meant everything? Gone. Like they were never yours. And that’s kinda scary… but also kinda beautiful. Because maybe travel isn’t about perfectly tracking every place. Maybe it’s about what sticks — the moments that refuse to leave, even when everything else does. Still… I won’t lie — dropping a pin or saving a photo feels like telling time: “I was here. This mattered.” How about you?