"Have you seen what she looks like?"
"Oh, shit yeah. She's gorgeous."
"Is she cool?"
"No clue. Never talked to her."
How strange, then, is an image that can not only turn a head, but turn a mind? One sensory input affecting the whole of perception and of perspective. Yes, it can be touched, but the tactile sensation will be no different than that of any other photograph. There is nothing to look forward to but the realization of yet another absence from a life already wounded by absence. That the introduction was never made makes not the farewell any easier.
"What the Hell is the point of that?"
"I don't know. Just needed it in my life."
"No. An idea."
How wonderful, then, is an image that can not only capture a moment gone, but inspire moments to come? Eyes downward, dark brown hair tucked behind an ear, and a smile from a brief experience that will never be shared again. An artificial memory burns into natural memory, interpreted differently for each viewer. To one, she's gorgeous. To another, she's a daughter. To yet another, she's unwanted competition. To all, she's just a photograph. Nothing more than color and light frozen in a world in which all living things eventually go blind.
"An idea of what?"
"Of something worth writing about."
"Can't you just make shit up?"
"It's better knowing it's really out there."
How depressing, then, is an image of something that will never been seen with real eyes? Distance between reveals the world to be a large place, though the image itself claims otherwise. Through the eyes of the camera, a thousand words can be any thousand words. Perfection is as subjective as description, no two describe a picture the same way, and no one describes a picture the same way twice. Maybe a lover yesterday and an enemy tomorrow, or vice versa. Whether idea or impression, she is always beautiful.
"But you don't know. She's just an idea. She could be a bitch."
"She's not. She's a sweetheart."
"How can you tell that from a picture?"
"Because I wrote her that way."
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