Somehow the mismatched dates leave me wondering. Always with the questions. They look so similar. Were they really years apart? Which years was I with you? Of course it doesn’t really matter. It’s just the reminder. You would have known. You would have even known the day. And probably had a story to tell. And what’s worse – I record the stories of other people. Tapes and pages filled with their lives. Yours was too close. Asking to record seemed too close to an admission that you could die. And I never believed it could happen. I’m still not sure I completely believe it is true.
January 27, 2011 | Categories: Learning to cope with death. Trying to Understand. | Tags: 1970s, New York, Photography | 3 Comments