Relics of a distant past

There was a time when I believed, quite strongly, that one's memories are made up entirely of the physical objects one leaves behind. Mementos from your travels trigger you like a trip cord; a dusty box of relics spill out memories like old coins. Photos especially, printed on paper, are real imprints of your experiences. Evidence of you, there, with that tree, that outfit, that expression you hated at the time, but now, just now, it's the only expression you ever made on that day and thank god for it. I think about this as the world changes, so that photos are now but wisps of cloud, VR replaces physicality, and souvenirs, trinkets, and objects, whose sole purpose are memory and place, have become passé. With more ways to document and remember, there is so little to touch and hold. Will the lines of memory and experience blur so it'll be easy to relive our pasts? Or will memory get buried like a newsfeed, like an ancient city encased in dust, layer upon layer of of new encounters building up until there's no way to chisel in?