dinner without you.
I have a certain long time love affair with photography. A love that has enchanted me in one way or another since I was small. I remember as a child sifting through the images of my parents as children, young adults, getting married. It was a life before mine, yet linked. It was as though through the portal of an image I emerged into a memory that was my own, yet wasn't. Bits and pieces were familiar, places, unlined faces of people I only knew with the marks of time weighing upon them, the mirrors of wisdom. There was so much kindredness in these moments that I would feel myself slip into the revery, the memory, of the pictured moment. A story would spin and I would be there and I would smell the scent of roast beef and mint jelly wafting in from the kitchen, see the cast off toys just out of frame, hear the voice of my great-grand mother chortling as she drew images of her famed wisligumps.