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A picture is worth...
Sep. 6th, 2009 10:59 pmWent to the store today, mostly for groceries but also to peer at the scrapbook aisle.
The scrapbook and photo album supplies are in the same aisle, and I must say the photo albums are tempting. They're just so much less work, you stick the photos in and voila! - complete! - and mysterious; years later you flip through and scratch your head and go, where was that? And who is that? And why is it here?
I've been looking through the photos from the Australia trip, and they are often lovely but always opaque. I can remember when and where, but why I took it and how I felt has flitted on the wind. Whereas, reading the journal, I can see just how it was; my mouth is dry from the airplane ride, I squint against the sun on the waves behind the cormorant drying his wings, I can almost taste the world's most luscious chocolate cake again. I remember how much I hated my physics book.
A picture is worth a thousand words not because that is how much a picture shows; but because a picture reveals so little that even a thousand words can't explicate it.
I'm not sure if that much memory is good for a person, but I ended up getting a scrapbook anyway. Or rather, I got an ordinary old three-ring binder. Because I am Minimalist! - or possibly just Stingy.
***
In other news: 3200 words on children's novel. I have given it the working title "Christy" in honor of the heroine, who is brown-haired and pudgy and given to wild flights of imagination.
The scrapbook and photo album supplies are in the same aisle, and I must say the photo albums are tempting. They're just so much less work, you stick the photos in and voila! - complete! - and mysterious; years later you flip through and scratch your head and go, where was that? And who is that? And why is it here?
I've been looking through the photos from the Australia trip, and they are often lovely but always opaque. I can remember when and where, but why I took it and how I felt has flitted on the wind. Whereas, reading the journal, I can see just how it was; my mouth is dry from the airplane ride, I squint against the sun on the waves behind the cormorant drying his wings, I can almost taste the world's most luscious chocolate cake again. I remember how much I hated my physics book.
A picture is worth a thousand words not because that is how much a picture shows; but because a picture reveals so little that even a thousand words can't explicate it.
I'm not sure if that much memory is good for a person, but I ended up getting a scrapbook anyway. Or rather, I got an ordinary old three-ring binder. Because I am Minimalist! - or possibly just Stingy.
***
In other news: 3200 words on children's novel. I have given it the working title "Christy" in honor of the heroine, who is brown-haired and pudgy and given to wild flights of imagination.
