The day, night and flower

Have you ever seen that scene? During the children's piano concert, parents picked up their mobile phones to watch the whole performance through the screen. I asked my parents, did you watch my performance well, they said yes, and they picked up their mobile phones and showed me the videos. Yes, the girl inside is indeed me, a flattened me who exists in 2d space; me inside will not grow old, and I will not get tired if I keep repeating the same music. When I talked to my parents about the concert a few years later, they still insisted on showing me that video to prove their participation. Although they even can't tell which music I was playing. I found that many of the memories we think of have been replaced by digital media long ago. I go through every photo album I've had since my mobile phone existed and let this little chip prove my history. It's absurd that these photos passively trigger all memories; some of them don't even remember seeing the images, so is there any meaning to such photos? In this wasteland of memories, I have classified photos that I have no impression of. Most of them are ordinary scenery. It is these ordinary landscapes that have grown up with me, but because of their simplicity, I always ignore them. I stack these normal photos with no stories and let them sublimate into a romantic existence in my memory.