Like Photographs, memories are often subjective and selective. An event may be recalled differently by people, by circumstances, and by passing of time. The things are chosen from my house at random to be taken picture from only one-side losing the true appearance with the changes of dimensions.
I imagine the memories to be sunk in the water of time. When I recall something the memories are hung on a line in a memory box, and the box is lifted up from the water. The combination, the order, and the angle of photos are changing each time I remember. These fragmented memories are unstable and even distorted to state the exact fact, but still altogether this accidental but inevitable story partially tells who I am.