I imagine that all the past versions of me exist in a long hallway, posed for display like statues that depict crucial moments in my life. I laugh at every single one of them. Someday, who I am now will join them, and who I am then in the future will mock me for my innate stupidity and lack of common sense. Under each statue, I see a title. Some of them are easy to read. Young me. 16 year old me. Arty me. But none of them are me and none of them ever really were. I am only who I am now and that me is a free floating blob of colorswirl treading into abstract canvas. Or something. The future me will laugh at how stupid and pretentious and sappy I am. And the me beyond that will be angry that I ever called myself stupid. I hope that as the statues get older, you won't be able to see the roadmap I've made of my arms and the tiremarks all over me.

Photo - N
Words - S