hurry up and get here
May. 22nd, 2002 04:16 pmWhen I was three, my grandmother (who is an artist) took a photography class, and I was her subject. We have about fifty art-y black and white shots of me doing different things; reading, painting, running in the park, playing at the beach. When I moved out a few months ago, my mother gave me the stack and told me to take a few for my new place. My two favorites are now hanging up in my bedroom.
In one of them, my back is to the camera. I have curly ponytails, and some sort of sand toy in my hand, and I am looking out to sea in a reflective sort of way. (I wonder what I was thinking about- probably Big Bird or something.)
Last week, I caught myself standing in the exact same position, facing the gulf, with a shell in the same hand. Suddenly I understood why I like that picture so much. It's a reflection of my life. I'm still just a little girl looking out to sea.
In one of them, my back is to the camera. I have curly ponytails, and some sort of sand toy in my hand, and I am looking out to sea in a reflective sort of way. (I wonder what I was thinking about- probably Big Bird or something.)
Last week, I caught myself standing in the exact same position, facing the gulf, with a shell in the same hand. Suddenly I understood why I like that picture so much. It's a reflection of my life. I'm still just a little girl looking out to sea.