Many of my childhood memories are a haze in my head. Borges often says that our life is really the
remembrance of that which we forget.
The fact is that in that muddle of mine I do remember my
father reading to me the Reverend Charles Kingsley’s The Water Babies – A Fairy Tale for a Land-Baby. I remember the tone of his voice and the fact that
most of his reading to me happened in bed.
I have maintained often in these blogs my idea that what
makes us human is our ability to associate stuff from disparate images or
events from our life.
When I was looking at contact sheets that I took long ago
in the rocks of Lighthouse Park of the lovely Katheryn Petersen I noticed these
two images that managed not to show offending little parts. The first thought
that came into my mind (is it not disparate?) was my father reading the Water
Babies.