“What’s going on there?” David asked. “What are they waiting in line for?”
“Oh nothing,” I said. “They’re just waiting to take pictures in front of that wall.”
“It’s like a famous Instagram shot.”
“Famous for what?”
“Being a spot to Instagram,” I said realizing that I was entering into a dangerous Catch-22 conversation loop. People instagram themselves in front of the Paul Smith wall because it’s famous on Instagram and it’s famous on Instagram because people instagram themselves in front of it. Where the chicken and the egg start… I really have no idea. Instagram can be a really weird place.
Hold your snark for a second. There are a lot of things to love about the photo sharing app. It takes what you really love about Facebook (voyeuristically looking at people’s photos whom you haven’t spoken to in several years) and cuts out the annoying status updates and stupid article shares. You get all the cute kid, dog, and travel pictures without having to physically hold yourself back from commenting on your racist aunt’s political rants. Plus, people are pickier with Instagram. You get one or two pretty images of your best friend’s trip to Hawaii, rather than 150 pictures they took out of the side of the car.