Photography and memory

[Sparrow]

When I think of something or someone in my distant past, I always picture the PHOTOGRAPH of the scene rather than my memory of the actual event.

Once immortalized and fixed as an image, it's seared into the memory.

Colour or monochrome? I generally dream in monochrome; not sure that has any significance at all

 

[M. Valdemar]

http://fiction.eserver.org/short/occurrence_at_owl_creek.html

I can confirm from personal experience. The lack of oxygen has some part to play in this phenomenon.

As an ex-para with thousands of jumps logged, both military and civil, I've had a wide variety of close to death experiences inc:

Hang-up: This is when the "static-line", which is supposed to pull open your canopy, does not. You're left hanging under the aircraft untill cut free by the jump-master (or yourself), then to open the reserve canopy.(from 800ft)

Double mal: (after free-fall) First canopy mal-function followed by cut-away (releasing this first canopy) followed by reserve canopy mal-function (partial) followed by extreme landing (broken feet, legs, ribs and wrists.)

Multiple canopy entanglement: During "canopy relative work" (CRW). My own plus an others canopies became entangled resulting in very high descent rate, plus uncontrollable spin followed by more broken legs, ribs etc.

Throughout these, and many other "minor" incidents, I remained conscious and lucid, working for a 'fix" untill impact.

I had one near drowning incident, a capsize in freezing waves, unable to "roll" or get out due to overloading with equipment. I was rescued unconscious, and revived by squad mates.
This did give me the "life passing before the eyes" experience, one which I would not like to suffer again!

 

[ClaremontPhoto]

I appreciate my photos after the event better than I remember the event.

 

[MartinP]

Thank you for the link Valdemar ! I recall that we were shown a short black-and-white film of the tale when I was seventeen (almost thirty years ago) - supposedly to stimulate discussion. I never realised that it was also a short-story.

Some twenty-five years ago I rode my bicycle from Spain home to the UK, passing through Pitxu's part of the world, and when looking at the thirty-one contact-sheets I can still remember what was going on for most of the photographs. The biggest mistake was taking a 135mm lens - I used it about twice, and then only to avoid "not using" it.