The day the elephants died
It seems that we have placed our life in the images with the firm hope of preserving it eternally, the efforts to distance ourselves from death and to preserve our images are developing in unison. Every day there are more and more images of ourselves, many of which we will never see again, what is left then? The satisfaction of preserving the image? As a strange inversion of Dorian Gray's story we not only want to keep ourselves in images, but those images have to look even better than ourselves.
At the same time we are developing techniques such as cryogenics, we are striving to find a cure for cancer, life expectancies are getting higher and higher, whole villages are inhabited by elderly people with nothing to do but sunbathe, for what?
This is the story of a person who did not value her life as she was supposed to, who did not fight for it against the world. This is the story of someone who sat down and waited for her time to end with the bad luck of always finding things in her way that gave her extra time that she was forced to accept. This is the story of how that person decided to undo her images in order to look at them with longing, as the elderly look at the pictures of their youth.