I’ve always found memory incredibly interesting and powerful. It might partially be because I don’t consider myself to have a great memory. I find it difficult at times to produce detailed accounts of past events. I’ve tried fish oil pills and other memory boosting strategies, but to me, nothing evokes a memory quite like photography.
Sure, “a picture says a thousand words” is the cliche, but it’s deeper than that. I see a photo of myself, or one I’ve take, and I can replay the whole event like a home video.
Even a quick glance at the picture above and I remember how the darkness of night crept up minute by minute, letting the fog take over. I couldn’t see more than 20 feet ahead of me, but perusing through my lens I passed through patches of tents and people all dressed in costume. It was Purim, the Jewish version of Halloween, and man do the Israeli’s go all out! Beats were pumping under a tent buried beneath the fog, but my friends and I had no interest in it at the time. We were set on exploring.
Sand and party-goers flashed by like a psychedelic dream–a trip without a tab. Poof, gone almost as fast as they came into my frame. Every once and a while stopping to snap a photo of someone peaking my interest. Without any words, the subjects and I agreed that this concealed madness needed to be captured. They might expect they’d never see that picture, but someone, somewhere would share that memory.
We climbed a small hill without realizing how far we’d ventured. Time flew by and whisked the fog away with it. With a full 360 view, we could now see what the fog had hidden! We saw the main tent, and thousands of people who were speckled ant size blips from this distance. The desert sun was now pouring down as we looked out to where the sky touched sand. We basked and gazed, as a big hatted man carrying a bag walked across the desert to nowhere. Had I not taken a photograph, this memory would be all but a mirage. What do you think?