A room of not more than eighteen square metres, a bed by the door, two tables opposite, a computer on each of them. One of them is mine; the other belongs to my girlfriend. I’m sitting down, looking at the monitor on which the back-lit photograph of my mother’s lathe is emerging. A year and a half ago I selected it as the background for my monitor. I don’t always see it in its entirety, usually it’s obscured by the windows of open programs, but even so it’s still there.
Dec 3, 2011
She wrapped the present for her father in paper with photographs of lions. Her father understood what she meant by that and was pleased that during her childhood and adolescence she had perceived him as the person who provided her with support and security.