This is why they believe that no selfie could ever mean anything other than vanity.
This is why they think selfies are a phase, something they can wish away.
Maybe they are lonesome and hungry for connection, projecting their own lack of community onto this woman’s solo show, believing her to be isolated rather than expansive.
They don’t see where her image is headed, where it will take up space in the infinite.
But upstairs, in her little room, she worked with colloidal silver, and there, Clover was queen of her domain.They are snickering, rolling their eyes, whispering among themselves.Maybe they are older than she is, making jokes about Narcissus and the end of civilization as we know it.For a socialite, she didn’t have much of a social network of her own.She had no one to share her face with, and so she kept it to herself like a secret.