novembre ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- improperly clutching (take the third elka test.)
my mother in a long-sleeved striped shirt, her hair pulled back at her temples, her hand improperly clutching a glass of wine. both are grinning and probably drunk. everyone who sits at my desk notices it, but differently. girls focus on my mother and comment on her expression, which is so typically my mother. smiling so wide her tounge pushes against her bottom row of teeth. after a pause, they tell me how beautiful she is. boys fixate on my father. he is slouching forward, towards the camera, while my mother is off to the left, her body turned away. they don't say much but boys can't stop looking at him. in the snapshot, my parents are obviously not posed. they are at some darkly-lit san franciscan bar, in the beginning of their marraige. they are around the same age that i am now. looking at an old picture of someone at the age you are now is a little mystic. you wonder if they remember how it was, and you see it in the faces, that they at least used to know. the people in my family retain their distinct features from birth. you could see a photograph of my mother age 8 months and compare it to this snapshot, and you'd know it was the same person. if you would hold this weathered snapshot up to my face, you'd see both of them, prominent, but inseperable. 2:39 pm - 02.03.02 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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