Who are we but collections of our ‘selves’?
Puzzles pieced together by memory.
Experiences housed in skin bags. Halves
seeking wholeness, but e’er in assembly.
Captured in pixels or film, photoshopped;
filters applied; curves adjusted; brightness
added or reduced; shadows dodged or ‘shopped.
Not happy with the resulting likeness.
Make it black and white–desaturate life.
Yes, now I see! Those stark lines and gray curves,
soft focus, fine detail–sharpen that strife.
Am I in the final image preserved?
Or was I lost in the details refined?
Can one image ever, myself, define?
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