My mother and I interrupt the view towards the Rockies. This wallet-sized print, which appeared out of nowhere identifiable last week, obviously dates from well before graduate school, so it shouldn’t really be here. I make the rules, I break the rules.
The Kodachrome colors are better in reality than in this rephotograph, but you can tell that I really was blonde as a little kid. My dad had a Nikkormat camera with Nikon lenses (later mine, Sherman the Tank Camera) and loved to take a photograph of me and my mother. I can hear the clacking of the slide carousel now. And the smell — do you agree that the slides gave off a scent as they went past the light?