not a pretty picture. not a good. not a bad. picture. but an argument.

Saturday, March 10, 2012

investigation of self vi: history

this is my mother upon highschool graduation.  who was she?  who is she now? 
how many countless layers are there to each of us?

just how is it that we exist through our history? and how does our history exist through us?


  1. The history repeats itself up to our infinite, in a few years, your daughter will place your photo and will wonder to if same the one who was my mother?, what did want?, what was searching? And the most important thing did she find it?.

  2. Great questions!

    We see in ourselves traces of our many ancestors. I never asked my mother the questions I should have asked when she was around. The main reason I wrote my memoirs, was this divide we all have with the past, with our own history that didn't get passed down clearly.

  3. damaso, it is so. it is almost as though we do not exist at all but only history itself does. it pours through us and what little we are, we pass through it.

    rosaia, i know this of you. i feel so lucky to have read your memoirs. in a very real way your history has become a part of mine:)

    i'm away from the computer for a few days. i wish you all well.


  4. Vaya fotos...magníficas...muy buenas fotos...un beso desde Murcia...

  5. Erin i find so nice and lovely and sweet the way you use to be closed to your mother, maybe your relationship was conflictual or maybe not, but to see you reflectet in the glass of the foto is a great and beautifull way to search to be closed to her... is lovely

  6. Your words are quite though provoking, indeed, and your photography is amazing!



"Words at the limit of hearing, attributable to no one, received in the conch of the ear like dew by a leaf." (philippe jaccottet) or even a quiet presence is appreciated))