Selfie culture carries many implications; I won’t go into them here, except for one fact: this habit exhausts me, distracts me, and erodes my personal dignity. I am not referring to genuine fans—they would rather talk to me, or come to a concert, and after a concert I have no problem taking photos with people; I understand that as part of the job. What I am talking about are strictly private moments: while I’m talking with friends in a café, having lunch with my wife in a restaurant, refueling at a gas station, checking prices in a supermarket, bargaining at a market, taking out the trash, or simply walking and thinking about my own things. In those moments, random passersby approach me, without the slightest discomfort about interrupting me, and ask to take a ‘selfie.’ And this happens constantly—minute after minute, hour after hour, year after year—turning my everyday life into something done ‘with hurdles,’ through constant interruptions, placing me in an unpleasant dilemma: whether to give in and feel like a piece of merchandise, or to refuse and then carry the guilt of having been ‘rude.’ In fact, the song was born precisely from that dilemma—an artistic reaction to frustration, I would say.
