Thorness, Isle of Wight, August 2010
Facebook, for me, had become like a festival of friends and acquaintances, each one with their own tent full of things to draw me in- thoughts, comments, updates, pictures, films, surveys, puzzles, games etc.
I’d go on Facebook with the sole aim of messaging a specific friend and then, half-an-hour later, find myself lost in photo albums of people who’d I’d not seen in ages and probably would never see again. Whose lives have no bearing or role in my own (and vice versa) but still hold some weird vicarious fascination.
Even profiles of friends I counted as friends became a trial, with news of major life events appearing on their wall alongside details of the everyday. Changes in relationship status being a shock to hear about second-hand. And a death, the biggest shock, to learn about via Facebook.
What began as a small gathering, a select collection of mates, became a vast and noisy crowd.
Some like buskers keep turning up. Same voices.
Some genuinely entertaining (Ray). Some posturing.
Some never giving up :”Be my friend!” (Rob)
The exotic. The mundane.
A virtual space full of chatter.