There she was, the wonderful lady of the neighborhood with her friends at the café. Smiling louder than the others to be heard and declare her presence in that commercial establishment. She took out her phone and took a selfie with her friends. She posted it on Facebook. You can see that she has a faint smile on her face, but little more: the selfie came out all blurry.
And so it was, all blurry the selfie traveled the Facebook servers, backups were made, and finally reached its recipients, her Facebook friends.
Blurry like her figure when she gets out of the shower and the mirror is foggy. Blurry like the smile she made for the said photo. Blurry maybe even like the last years of her life, which went by too fast with nothing to be said about them.
And the team of engineers, with no credits anywhere, whose talent created the functionality of sending the blurry selfie around the world, remains anonymous. Who knows if the café owner has a daughter who worked at Facebook and did some of the code that ran on the lady of the neighborhood’s CPU?
And how many other algorithms and digital eyes looked at the photo as it traveled through the transistors? And who made them? And are these geniuses still alive?
At that moment the blurry selfie became a wonder of the eighth planet. The comments started to drop. “You look happy friend kisses” and “miss you lots of health and peace”. All good wishes, some emojis but zero criticism of the blurriness.
Since when have blurry selfies become acceptable in society? How many photos taken with miniaturized Nikons in 2006 were deleted or rejected due to a slight blurriness? The comments continued to drop. That night the couch was the vehicle where she sat to answer her friends who commented.
“Thank you” was the most repeated word. Some likes.
The night ended and the selfie stayed there, blurry, forever.