Someone I know sent me an old picture of his parents today, and I noticed, when I saw it, that I couldn’t recognize that the woman in it was his mother. Not until I was told who it was. And it made me realize that someday, someone might see a picture of me from right now and not recognize it at all.
Time changes things, Zonk. And youth is fleeting. And it makes me sad to think that who I am right now will someday be just a memory confined to a black and white photograph.
Except that our photographs aren’t black and white anymore, unless we choose to instagram them that way.
I’m worried they won’t feel authentic in retrospect.