We backup our phones to the cloud. We archive our emails. We screenshot conversations “just in case.” Every half-formed thought, grocery list, and passive-aggressive tweet is preserved for eternity on a server somewhere.

Scaffolding is ugly. It’s temporary. It exists solely to help you build something real—and then it needs to be torn down. If you leave the scaffolding up, you can’t see the finished building. You just see the mess you made along the way.

We mistake documentation for wisdom. We think that if we write it down, we must protect it, defend it, and build a shrine around it. But most of our ideas aren’t monuments. They are .

And then burn it before it turns into a cage.

We live in an age of permanence.