Because I have taken so many photographs since I started in 1958 I am constantly finding negatives, slides and in the case here, Polaroids that fell into files or boxes and I never did notice them.

This one of Rosemary and Rebecca is not a flattering portrait of my Rosemary. I still want to place here and comment on the fact that the photograph (you can see my softbox on the top left corner) represents a time that will never return. It cannot be repeated. That saddens me. I cannot throw the Polaroid away. Would I be throwing some aspect of their souls?