I don't have a face on Facebook. Wow, what a revelation. Admitting I'm behind on the viral scene. So now I'm out with it - no facebook, no twitter, I'm not Linkedin either. Leaving here in my little village of a towne I can hide from all those connection seekers, 'remember me?' people of the past that would love to pop in, catch up, visit and hang out.
I bind my past. First I take photos, closing in on one moment in time, freezing it forever. Now we're playing by MY rules, I can do whatever I want to this said memory, it's mine to play with. I print some, delete some, store some photos and the most precious ones, the carefully edited photos, I scrapbook, nudging memories into a personal scheme of things, personalized point of view.
From color choices to shapes to where the photos are placed on the page and their size, the focus is mine and it's my life we're facing. I decide what will be bound forever in our family album, I'm the memory keeper. I save face for us all and I am not ashamed to be biased.
I don't have a facebook page yet my face and the faces I love are bound forever in our family book of love.
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