I did not take this picture on Monte Pasubio - one of my fellow walkers did that. I don't recall exactly who! Here we have two figures on the side of the mountain. Two figures - a young man and a young woman I would guess, and somehow joined together at their feet and shoulders. It looks like a romantic moment - a shared feeling or a revelation of some kind and made as the sun sets over the peaks. Or perhaps, on this old battlefield, they imagine they hear the sound of marching feet, the ghosts of those - the best and the bravest, summoned from the battle to eternal rest...
No, no, Robert, cut, cut, cut... Your imagination is running away with you and you are imposing it on two unsuspecting souls sharing a private moment at the end of the day. Ah, but isn't this what we all do? That is, we use our imaginations to recall the past in an unrealistic light. Memories are, perhaps, rather like the photos we take. We take them home, use PhotoEditor to touch them up before posting them on Facebook. As time goes by, it is the touched-up photo we recall and not the original event.
So, the truth is one thing. The edited photo is quite another. The edited photo has no imperfections. The girl in my photo notices no bad breath or body odour. The young man has no wandering thoughts: God, I need the toilet or Will she accuse me of attempted rape? This photo represents a romantic interlude that may be recalled with great affection in years to come. It is the difference between the truth and the memory that is grain and inspiration to the writer's millstone.
Oh, and there's another problem. I already said I don't recall who took the photograph. To be honest, I probably never even saw the event. But the photo itself is telling me that I did!
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