I don't know who can draw a picture of life in the memory. But whoever draws draws. That is, he did not sit with a brush in his hand to keep an exact copy of what was happening. He puts out how much you omit according to your preference. How big makes the small, makes the small big. He does not hesitate to sort out the previous ones and the later ones. In fact, his work is painting, not writing history.
In this way, the flow of events continues on the outside of life, and the picture continues to flow on the inside. There is yoga between the two but the two are not exactly one.
We don't have time to look at this inner picture of us. Every now and then we look at one part of it. But most of it lies invisible in the dark. The painter who is constantly painting, why he is painting, when his painting is finished, who can tell which picture these pictures will be hung in?
One day a few years ago, I went to this photo booth to ask someone about my life. I thought two of the four biographies were fairly useful.