I often wonder what happened to my memory. Have all those years of synthetic love and endless parties robbed me of any first hand recollection of my life? Are my only memories reflections of the dodgy black and white disposables or the pixelated juxtapositions poised on facebook pages; heightened moments often fabricated for the pleasure of the camera. Even besides those deborturous evenings my memories of growing up seemed like spinifex in the desert. But recently I rejoiced, for they are still there, buried discretely in the layers of distractive dialogue. Solitude has allowed them to rise again, vivid and wild, full of colour and injected with laughter. Random and without warning they grace my days in this foreign land, I'm so happy for what has been and for the mystery of what is to come.
And for all those times that seem forgotten, hail to the photograph.
:: J.P
