Truth is a fuzzy concept, and the more you think about it, the more you realize, that although some objective physical reality seems to exist, it is impossible to assess it. It begins with the fact that we have only very limited senses and equally limited brains to process their signals. Thus we select what’s important to us. I see some things that you may not, even tough the fact that you follow my blog makes it likely you’re also a photographer.
That’s what we take in. The other part is, what we remember, and if so, for how long we do. We don’t “take images” with the eyes and store them like we do with our photographs. Nevertheless we sometimes come up with memories that seem to be dazzlingly precise.
A few weeks ago I spent an afternoon in the sun, near water, dozing in the shade, not sleeping but not far from it either. And then I had an image in my mind of a place that does not exist any more, a basin in a small river, where my mother used to take us in summer. It felt completely real, and the longer I think of it, the more impressive it becomes. There is so much detail, such liveliness, that I wonder how it has survived in my mind for at least 40 years. And it’s not only images. I’ve sound in my mind and smells, and even the fresh feeling where a small, cold creek ran into the basin on one side. Water-fleas. The glitter of light …
It’s also not that I’ve never thought of that place. I did, once in a while, every few years maybe. It never was as real though. Yes, I’ve been there often, but I’ve also played all my childhood in certain places and I only vaguely remember them. It’s confusing 🙂