My father was famous for his photographic memory. He was in the OSS. They trained him to be captured on purpose and to read upside down and backwards and commit to memory every document in Germany he saw as he was being interrogated - every schedule on every wall. So, that photographic memory somehow made its way to me when I was young.
Everyone has a photographic Memory, some just don't have film.
I have a photographic memory.
I use zero photography. I have a photographic memory and a complete knowledge of anatomy and physiology, and an interest in grasping the moment of what is happening, not just the outside, but the inside out.
I have a photographic memory for numbers.
My dad thinks I have a photographic memory.
The problem is almost everybody is just recording the world with home photographic toys, not doing metaphor or ideas. We have a photographic culture that's not conditioned to think in terms of symbol.
A photographic memory, to me, is kind of like brainiac, genius type. I don't think I have that.
[The child receives impressions like] a photographic exposure that can be developed after any interval of time and transformed into a picture.
I have a very conveniently photographic memory of emotions - it's overwhelming, because things don't fade for me.
Photographic memory is often confused with another bizarre - but real - perceptual phenomenon called eidetic memory, which occurs in between 2 and 15 percent of children and very rarely in adults. An eidetic image is essentially a vivid afterimage that lingers in the mind's eye for up to a few minutes before fading away.
Over the years a photo-mania developed. At times, photographic images have signaled a way forward and gotten me out of a bind.
I have a photographic memory that enables me to visualize what everyone in the huddle is supposed to do on each of the hundreds of plays in our playbook.
I would love to have a photographic memory. It would come in handy with the rants I'm given on Scrubs... often on short notice!
Photographers encode their concepts as photographic images so as to give others information, so as to produce models for them and thereby to become immortal in the memory of others.
No memoirists writes for long without experiencing an unsettling disbelief about the reliability of memory, a hunch that memory is not, after all, just memory.