Belfast man Ciaran Shannon became a global phenomenon this week with his "How it started. How it's going" tweet, featuring photographs of him and his daughter Niamh at key moments of her academic life.
Each image taken by his wife Brenda is striking for the similarity of the pose the pair strike against the same backdrop outside their home. In three simple pictures - Niamh's first day at primary school, her final day at secondary school and her graduation day - we see 19 years roll by unstoppably.
In 1999, Ciaran's hair is sandy brown and Niamh wears classic children's T-bar shoes. By 2018, his locks are grey and she is glamorous in high heels.
I suspect the reason his tweet made such a powerful impact is because people see their own lives reflected back in those images. They instantly speak to the most important things in our heart: family, relationships, love.
They remind us that everything is fleeting, that try as we might to pin things down, change happens all around us and to us, whether we like it or not. As a wise man said, you can never stand in the same river twice.
I had my own modest Twitter storm this week. Like Mr Shannon, I received a lot of likes, though while he's nudging a million, I'm only closing in on 1,000.
Unlike him, however, I also reaped the whirlwind of abuse from Covid deniers. Suffice to say, I'm just back from a meeting with my Government handlers about what to say here.
Admittedly, my tweet was quite pointed: I'd screen-grabbed a comment by a friend of a 37-year-old mother of young twins whose operation for thyroid cancer "was cancelled at the last minute due to all the nurses needing to be on the Covid wards". The pal asked "What about her? She deserves the help and medical care as much as anyone else."
Alongside this I tweeted "All the 'I'm not wearing a mask' scoffers, the fireside medical experts, the cod graph experts, the conspiracy nuts ... this comment on the Mail website today is the human cost of your blether. A young mum's cancer op at the RVH cancelled. Well done. Hope you still feel it's worth it."
Apart from questioning my intelligence, sanity and integrity, a common thread ran through the outrage: the simple refusal to acknowledge that we now face a second wave of Covid - one that could have been prevented if the Government, and more importantly, the people had acted responsibly.
But the blunt truth is that we squandered all the progress made in lockdown earlier this year.
Key to the sceptics' credo is the argument that Covid patients are treated as a priority while people with other illnesses are being denied treatment.
The absurd logic of this position is that those with Covid should be left to die or, if they're lucky, to fend for themselves.
Of course, it's unacceptable that cancer treatments don't go ahead and screening programmes fall behind. But that's not the fault of Covid patients. It's because our health service is buckling under pressure - and being confronted with the reckless, wilfully ignorant behaviour of those who have made a second wave inevitable.
Suggesting that hardworking NHS staff are in the grip of a PC-mania and somehow seizing upon Covid as an excuse not to care for certain patients is offensive nonsense.
Who'd want to have to tell a young mum her cancer op has been cancelled? Nobody walks into that room glad of heart and light of step. Doctors would need the wisdom of Solomon when it comes to the choices they're facing now.
Our health service has been in dire straits for years. Stormont's three-year hiatus further delayed vital reform. There are chronically long waiting lists and too few beds and staff. The notion all this could have been resolved over the summer to avoid a second wave becoming a crisis is fool talk.
Tragically, deaths are rising in Northern Ireland, where the infection rate is among the highest in Europe. Outbreaks in care homes are soaring. Yet still the self-styled experts jab their fingers at iPads, denying what is patently obvious: Covid kills. Wittering on about the pandemic being overblown is just another way of justifying doing whatever the hell they want.
They blame the Government and the scientists - and, yes, they haven't got everything right, but in unchartered waters they're trying to do their best. Can Covid deniers say the same thing?
We've all seen the contents of their bag of shabby tricks now - "It's no worse than the flu", "It's only kills the vulnerable and elderly", "Do you actually know anyone who's died from Covid?" ...
And so on and so forth, tipping their tinfoil hats and muttering darkly about a sinister force taking away our freedoms. Let's not forget the "fixing of death certificates" brigade who believe nice Dr Wilson is secretly receiving his orders from a shadowy network with an HQ buried deep in the ocean bed.
Here, we used to mutter about an acceptable level of violence. Now, some people have an acceptable level of Covid deaths.
Mr Shannon's tweet prompted thousands to post their own versions of personal journeys and happy milestones.
Sadly, our Covid journey is the direct antithesis: we started well, we were 'all in this together', we washed hands, queued patiently and applauded NHS staff.
Now, undertakers are getting busier, care homes are under siege, intensive care beds are filling up, ventilators are in demand, those who care about protecting their families are abused.
Ironically, one positive I gleaned from the response to my tweet was a collapse of traditional Orange/Green divisions. Abuse was hurled from both silos - but support came from all backgrounds too.
"How it started. How it's going." Maybe a glimmer of hope on one front.