on the surface we smile, make faces
inside we die, our interior
marked as unseen graves.
This idea came from a comment i read on how pictures convey a shallow projection of how things really are in reality. Pictures are two dimensional and capture just the exterior projection we want to put forth. But it does not spell the whole truth of what is going on in reality. Pictures, though they convey realistic projections of how reality looks like stilled, it only does as much as that. Pictures are where we hide. They sometimes project a fictional life we wish we had in reality.
A Chorus of Echoes 