In photos, I believed, we can capture that fraction of a second, frame it and hang it to the wall, and nothing is lost or forgotten, because there exists a proof of the experience, a documentation, a frozen fraction of a second. But then the wall is full of photos, full of memories, to what extend and to what end? How long will we live trapped in the past that we interpreted as a flawless one ? what triggered this thought is the Toute la mémoire du monde video and the Bibliotheque Nationale in France, and it is a scary thought not knowing the results of documenting almost everything.
How did we reach this point?