Came across this photo-of-photos dating back to mid-July. I had brought over a few recent prints for Mabel's parents of pictures taken earlier in the summer. And spread them out on top of the painted chest (full of linens and silverware) in the Mabel-family dining-nook. I thought even then with conscious satisfaction that they made a pleasant mosaic of snippets, but could not begin to appreciate how they would resonate in a far more intense way just a couple of months later. In the midst of taking them and printing them and arranging them, the most obvious fact about them was not obvious
– the fact that for me they would come to represent life itself.
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