The digital airbrushing of photographs presents a distant fiction from the scrappy reality of Life. Real Life isn’t ‘perfect’. Things are what they are—that’s the reality. And reality is messy.
For many of us there’s a mental, and sometimes physical, pain associated with pining after fantasy. What do these self-inflicted scars do when one is already whole? Do we ignore our bodies’ and minds’ own, in-built powers in favour of physically-impossible fabrications by others? Why?
This bizarre messiness called Life, shall we embrace its pleasures, pains, and strangeness for all that they are worth, and for the limited time that we have?