|Who took this picture? Puzzling.|
Did he take the picture? Her Subject couldn’t quite recall. It was not a selfie, so he must have been the photographer. He knew he did it. But searching in his memory, he had no recollection of it. He thought he dreamed it. Yes, it was in a dream where he took the picture. A long time ago, before he knew her. But if he didn’t know her, then who was she? How was it possible? Was it a dream? He couldn’t be sure. It couldn’t have been a dream, for he was staring at the picture. Maybe he was still in a dream yet to be waken up?
Her Subject kept trying to remember. All he saw was a cloud of smoke. Forever beyond his grasp and disappeared as soon as he tried. Why was it so hard trying to remember something? Her Subject felt tiring trying to remember. So tiring. He thought it was just not worth the effort. Why was it so much effort? Was it really that important to remember? It was not important at all. Why would anyone care who took the picture? Why was he tired all of the sudden trying to remember? So tired and drowsy. Couldn’t he just leave the memory hidden? He would have been much happier to keep it hidden, right? If not, someone else would be happy to have the memory buried deep inside. But inside what? And who was that someone? Why was he feeling that someone? Who was there playing with his mind?
Her Subject got very confused. And he felt very tired trying to figure all this out. For what? He didn’t know. He thought it would be all better if he would just give up, and that’s what he did. He felt relieved. Leaving the memory hidden was liberating.