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When I was very young, barely out of childhood, a woman known by everyone in our small town to be accompanied by a prophetic genius* grabbed my arm during a busy street fair and pulled me close, gestured to the phantom on her shoulder, and whispered to me: “Nice face. Shame about the claw hand.”

I didn't understand what she meant, but I suddenly and permanently felt strongly that I would one day be so embarrassed taking selfies in public that even in a completely empty subway carriage, at midnight, I would still only dare to take two shots, both out of focus, and one with my eyes closed.