Making memories
Day 9: Arashiyama, Kyoto
If you don’t take a photo of a place, how do you know you were really there? How do you prove it to others? To yourself? When your memory fails, where does that data go — that record of your existence, there and then?
I love having Zoë with me, to take all the photos. Not only is our life documented by thoughtfully composed, professional images, but, if I go off on my own, I get to silently judge all the people watching the world pass by their viewfinders.
The Arashiyama bamboo grove on the outskirts of Kyoto is undeniably beautiful, but that makes it little more than one big photo op. Everyone here is taking or posing for photos, or both. And, because it’s so busy, most of those are photos of other people taking photos of other people — or themselves.
Of course, I’m no better than anyone else. If I didn’t have Zoë here, I’d be taking my own shitty smartphone snaps. Or maybe I would have faced up to my limited photography skills and wouldn’t be here at all. Deep down, I too believe that the experience of walking a few hundred metres of bamboo is nothing if you don’t have anything to show for it.
How far are we from Rekall? I remember reading an article (or did I???) about how implanting memories is theoretically possible; partway proven already using mice. If we could cut out the travel time and cost, and the hassle of being around other people, and we could take ownership of the memories — and the photos — some other, easier way, would we?
