Selfie No. 402


Clutching, looking down, posing, taking, checking, archiving to Outfits Folder. ✌🏼

This has turned into an unintended ritual, performed on the daily without any personal growth or end-goal in mind. It’s an infinite game between just myself and my ego—giving each other hat tips in unison. A quiet moment of appreciation, at least of ‘good enough’. Sometimes a final nod to solitude, before heading out into the world.

Mirrors and selfies are co-evolving and producing apparently ‘1000 selfies per 10 seconds’ at the time of writing. And still, it remains such a novel thing to see the shape of your own self in the mirror, presented as a single individual amidst the 1000 per 10. One version of a self, out of so many possible selves.

To be missed is to be flattered


So, what did you miss about me?

Instead of answering the question, I drew this. Much of love in the modern day = attention. Does this kind of attention count as love? Even when you are objectifying your love and focusing on his line-work equivalents, nose deep in notebook, rather than attention on the actual-him? At the very least, my real-time neglect has meant that I can repeatedly return to this reminder of the moment and dwell on that kind of love.