Monday, September 5, 2016

The autopsy of a selfie

     Sometimes I get the feeling that my words are not caustic enough and  I do not name them so out of hatred, not even out of revolt, but out of the desire to satirize certain gestures, a certain verbal tic, conversations or ways to moving, for the simple reason, yet better said, with the candid hope to change something.


     I am unable to move on without saying a thing I am not capable to forget, which is, perhaps, one of the very few references to my personal relationships: this depicts the greatest love of mine (now disaggregated) once photographing me, while saying "you know, a long time ago, people do not take photos of themselves, but of those they love" Let’s get over the moment of tears in the corner of the eye ("so romantic..."): they quickly evaporate.
   
     The idea is he had a point. Narcissus no longer mirrors in the water, but in his smartphone screen. Now he is more sophisticated: he applies some powder on the nose, he arranges his hair, he pinches the cheeks. Unfortunately, the impossibility of drowning is obvious, and no daffodil shall arise on display. The world outside of the carnal self fades away; so does the spirit. When was proclaimed the body supremacy?

     Leaving behind some unanswered questions, but I am getting far from the point. Behind that photo, could it be the desire of validation from others, the unexpected illusion to please everyone and especially the passion of being in trend? Or perhaps there is a self-inflicted superiority.. Furthermore? Gray matter - ashes from a cigarette destroyed by autocombustion. Eternally repressed discontents trickling down the veins.

     Verdict? I have none; it is a hard job to be the one that heralds the death of an era.

P.S.: No, I am not saying to forever quit selfies. Amen. 

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Maira Gall