EVERYBODY LOVES HER PICTURE

It is true; isn't it? Everybody loves her picture. But what picture I am referring to? The one portrays my innocent childhood, or another one, which paints my maturity, you may call it adolescence, adulthood, or old-age whichever suits your imagination. Don't you think that it's a hard task to identify and categorize? Naturally, no picture can portray me what I am inside as a diary of beings. Imagining myself through a picture I often fail to judge if I am of this kind or that kind? I imagine a good picture of mine; for I need a good filter to make me fair and rosy. I don't know what is real in me, to extend it further, hyper-reality is also a mythical jargon for me. I judge my self without judging it in a fair, objective, or neutral way. Obviously, I am not an "impartial spectator", in terms of what Adam Smith create a character of imagination, who can judge without pre-judging. I am a judge of something or someone who is other in me. Judging requires separation, objectification, neutrality, and a fair distance. I cannot judge someone, who is a "projected fantasy" to my imagination. I don't actually know who is there in the picture, which symbolises me and my identity. It was a lived moment or fake moment, but of course, it was a moment, which I remember through memory. I like to have my photos in memory till it fades or erased, so as to remember back with nostalgia. Some moments are severely missed through a good picture which is projected through memory. After all, Imagination is real as much as any other reality. As Picasso rightly pointed out, "Everything in imagination is real". It is there in my mind, popping up to re-create what is already been lived. Life, in biographical landscape, is a fantasy, which is lived less than remembered with nostalgia. I don't hesitate to say that I love my picture. But what picture I am referring to? A picture which has just passed or a portrayal which is inherent in me. I don't have any answer. I'm destined to fail to get a single picture of mine. I am, in fact, a collection of so many pictures that it is very difficult to choose which one really represents me. I am real in totality. I am unreal in fragments. However, like everyone, I love my picture. But, I don't know which picture I am referring to?

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