Following up on photography

Hmm.. I guess its hard to actually identify what constitutes memories, be it a unique combination and interplay of images, sounds and and other forms. Memories glow in the dark recesses of your mind, I guess that's what makes them special. They just trigger off - you cannot choose to retrieve this specific memory at a specific point of time. And however mortal our reminisces might be, they make us what we are now.

But anyway, this is a poem i like a lot. Memories and photographs of course.. since i am it.


For an Album (by Adrienne Rich)

Our story isn't a file of photographs
faces laughing under green leaves
or snowlit doorways, on the verge of driving
away, our story is not about women
victoriously perched on the one
sunny day of the conference,
nor lovers displaying love:

Our story is of moments
when even slow motion moved too fast
for the shutter of the camera:
words that blew our lives apart, like so,
eyes that cut and caught each other,
mime of the operating room
where gas and knives quote each other
moments before the telephone
starts ringing: our story is
how still we stood,
how fast.