Kid by Door, photo by Elizabeth G. Aakre


  1. there may not be word to describe how much i revere ( i still do) elizabeth's photos.

    she had such an incredible vision and drive - something that was apparent in her pictures.

    also the fact that she had such good taste added to her own work SO much.
    I haven't gotten over this picture of the little boy running up the stairs, - so wise - and i don't think i ever will.

    i hope not, anywat

  2. I am happy these are here.

    A good place to come.


    wandering 1
    year ago/
    brought old
    camera along

  3. that's sam too, standing in my brother's doorway. these pictures have grown to mean so much. i think we took alot of pictures that day. sam, a rather orginary child, was so happy to be photographed by a mystical tall beautiful creature. it was lovely to see them interact.


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How Dina Aunty relished her memories. Mummy and Daddy were the same, talking about their yesterdays and smiling in that sad-happy way while selecting each picture, each frame from the past, examining it lovingly before it vanished again in the mist. But nobody ever forgot anything, not really, though sometimes they pretended, when it suited them. Memories were permanent. Sorrowful ones remained sad even with the passing of time, yet happy ones could never be re-created—not with the same joy. Remembering bred its own peculiar sorrow. It seemed so unfair: that time should render both sadness and happiness into a source of pain.

> From A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry