She.

(click on the image to enlarge.)

"She"_(Playa Malvin, 2010)

© Flavio Martín Morante_2010

Quick chain of thoughts_ Yesterday I listened REM's song "She Just Wants to Be" and made me think of one of my top favorite pictures from the ones I have ever taken. And then the question, who is she? why to like this picture above others, besides the color palette, composition, etc, etc? And the answer is because somehow she is she. "She" was a women I came across while walking on Montevideo's beach named Malvin (my favorite beach in the city, adoration of a place built of memories over memories), but time and memories have converted her in many women to which I have come across or have been part of my life.

"She" is my Mom watching us growing without been able to stop time, but giving always the best of her for us because that's what Moms do, not matter what; she is the Grandma and aunt I have which many times were my mother too; she is the other Grandma I do not have anymore, and from who I only remember the sweetness of her face expression and that's a lot; she is my first grade teacher with a smile always on the pocket of her shirt; she is the mom of a school friend who one day stopped coming to the school at the sound of the bell and my friend stopped having a mom; she is my sister pushing hard everyday for a better tomorrow and she is my other sister happy of having a present; she is the girl on the other classroom and the girl on my classroom; she is the one I loved, who left too soon and she is the one that took her away from us; she is the one I gave once a ring when looking back and inside I was not ready for; she is the one that told me how much she loved me just to find silence from the other side of the bed; she is the one I thought I loved; lying to her and also lying to myself; she is the one I did really try to love but could not; she is too the neighbor for who I will do the groceries during the summer months when I was a kid; and the one asking me if I was ok after fighting with two robbers on the street; she is the one I did not do anything for when I saw her from a moving bus getting hit by a guy on the side of the street, and she is the one I almost got myself killed when I tried to defend her on a midnight I prefer to forget; she is my first real kiss when I was thirteen; she is the one that made me laugh really hard and I do not remember her name, she is the one that I bored to death but still remembers mine; she is my cousins and the acceptance that time took us on different paths; she is the one I broke her heart, she is the one that almost turned mine into stone; she is the one that told me I was not good enough and made me want to be better; she is my favorite singer and she is the french actress I always fantasized to at least have a coffee with; she is the one that gave me a real hug when I needed the most; she is the four psychologists I met as friends and who could not leave the notebook at home not matter how hard they tried, she is the one that did not went to school for it and have it more clear than them; she is the girl at the coffee shop that used to draw figures on my cappuccino's foam; she is the one that accused me of lying when she did not want to hear the truth; she is my mother in law, who sometimes drives me crazy but I still love and own a lot; she is that really good looking girl on the parisian subway, like in a movie clichè, sadly looking at everything and looking at nothing; she is the one that goes talking about finding herself, when she never bothered to search; she is the girl that pops on your life after years of silence like nothing ever happened and asking for too much; she is the one I damned once but wish I would have done things different with her; and she is the one you just met and feel like know her from always; she is the one that becomes a real friend and makes you really forget she is a woman; she is the one who cannot look beyond her nose and she is the one who does not want to look at her own; she is the mother of a friend that in the hard times has words that double as a mother and as a friend; and she is the one selling flowers on a Montevideo cemetery, who according to her I was one of her best customers but would love to not see me anymore because to see me was to see sadness; she is the one that could not take a no; she is the one that owns me an apology, she is the one I own one; she is the one I still talk with after thirty years like only some good friends get to do; she is the one that once took care of me, she is the one I took care of; she is the one I love and the one I choose to live my life with, she is my lover and she is my friend.

Someone will say :

All that on one picture? yes, and more.