I love pictures.
I hate pictures of myself.
I love pictures since my childhood. I could, I can, spend some very long minutes watching at just one single picture in a magazine, on Internet, on a wall. Any kind of picture, portrait, action picture, war picture, wildlife picture, even an add. A simple sky can get my attention for a very long time. The colours, the aesthetic, the uniqueness of the frozen moment, the violence or the passion, whatever it is, makes me feel “something”. It’s a bit cliché I know but I am very receptive to pictures. Some people don’t care, others feel the same with words, or food, or fashion, but me it’s the “image”. Childish, maybe.
I hate pictures of myself since my childhood. I never felt, feel, comfortable when someone was “shooting” me, neither I was, I am, looking at a picture of me. Some people look great on a photo. I never thought, think, I am one of those. I mean, no mistake, I like myself, I am who I am (even if I am maybe a bit older now), no worries, but not on pics. I used to refuse when someone tried to take a photo of me by pretending that “the picture will steal my soul”. It was a joke of course but also a subtle excuse.
Couple of months ago, I shared a post on my “social network” page. You know what I mean. One about a surfing trip illustrated with pictures. One was a “self-portrait”. You have to know that many friends complain that I never change my profile picture, that there are no or so few pictures of myself. I couldn’t believe the reactions when I shared the post, I got some comments like “WTF? a pic of you?!”, things like that…
Therefore, I dedicate this post to all my friends bored with my unique profile picture. Here is a new one. Yes, a new one! Shot a day after the surfing trip. I forced myself to smile (yes, it’s a smile). I forced myself to edit the pic. I forced myself to add it to this post. But for all my friends and the human kind well-being, I am pleased to share it with you.