19 February 2010. Cold and damp... Into the bone...
Three figures, drawn with perhaps too much care--a mood of restraint unbefitting the age. (Early Soviet.) And a mother carrying a child, her back turned. The source? That kind of day, the edges worn from last night's fray--a conversation with a dozen youngsters--and a television, bumpy and wild... Modern times.
As with my younger double, this morning, seated alongside, employed in the scanning of grandmothers and rabbis--a pile of photos, mostly old, a few in color--the world of Polaroid--faded 70s tones... The ripply edge...
Snapshots and scallops--can an image be treif? When what appears before the lens would have us all believe...
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