Point of view of the art itself

Every year, we get together for the all-to-common ritual of the family portrait. Some look forward to the day like it’s Christmas, getting all dolled up with fancy embroidered dresses, glitzy jewelry and fancy patterned ties. Then there are those who frankly hate having their picture taken, complaining all year long and letting out increasingly frequent huffs and puffs as the fateful date approaches. But in the end, they are always the first ones on the scene. And then there are the scatter-brained ones who every year have a mental lapse and forget the day or location, forcing us to drive Aunt Serafina's wagon to pick them up. That in itself has become a ritual, too. And that's just the way we like it. We love being so absurdly different, but still in many ways alike. Each one of us looks at the world in our own way. Some of us love to feel the spring breeze on our skin - the lucky ones who still have feathers appreciate it even more. Others love the smell of autumn leaves, the chatter of the village market, evenings in front of a warm fire. But some things remain important to all of us, we're always helping each other out, being there for one another. And we all love. We love with all our hearts.

Finally, the last stragglers have arrived. Everyone strike a pose: say cheese!