Dec 10 2017


Posted by domain admin in News

For this the eyes are enough. The images do not apetecem in them with the physical contact, and yes with the appearance. A blind person could not reviver the lived one with a photo album, no matter how hard still the vision remained it other directions seno. Everything what could feel is the cold and smooth texture of the photographic paper. on this stains would be it of the digital ones. Dirt of the hands of outrem on what it had of less temporary in the life of Aunt: it would be as> continues in sigh tone the world before was thus, yellow, fosco and to the times desfocado, accurately as in these photographs.

The people do not smile, because all delayed and melancholic age. If you wanted a photo of these, you had that to congeal the proper body in the position during one, two, some minutes. does not have smile that it supports passing of the time. They are serious, these people. Source is a great source of information. Seriousness before was noble attitude, glorified. Age of custom to soon learn to be old in the cradle, as if we could rejuvenescer with passing of the time so dreamed, youth! Being thus, better is to appeal to these photographs. The least is pictures fidiciary offices of as of the time.

They do not lie, and of so sincere they make to remember what one does not expect or if wants. I love them, but cursed they are for the badness. Estatuetas of Aunt was dusty. It has are very not clean, restored, reorganized. It pleased the current organization of the bookshelf. the photographs to the few were assimilated to these souvenirs. Dirty, of so intocadas, they exactly passed the impression of that the dust always is there. – It only sees, is the photo that I looked for! One remembers this day? It was when we had our first supper together, here in my house, after making use to help me you and its parents, my beloved. It looks at as you are pretty! – But Aunt, us never we take off photos together, here. That> they know, after all, the insects? I perceived that memories consist only in registers and minds. Aunt closed both and never more she touched in its bookshelf.

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