While bean has been on all this house-rest we have been going through all our old photographs: putting them in boxes, pitching bad shots & doubles & things we don't want to see anymore. I have previously held strong superstitions about the pitching or the destruction of photographs (possibly stemming from an episode of
Amazing Stories I saw as a tiny person involving a botched pomo-wicca deal in which a photograph, you know, for sympathetic magic, was accidentally ripped with horrifying consequences I cannot bear to spell out for you), but ha, I can overcome my superstitions anytime I want.
That is not the point.
The point is that I have this album of pictures of me in high school & pictures of me in Japan. All the Japan pictures are secretly not pictures of Japan so much as they are pictures of me & Colin. Oh, look, there is Aizu Castle in the background, but first here is Colin with his arm around me. Oh, look, this is the house I stayed in, but here are Colin & I making faces at each other. Oh, look, Colin, Colin. The moral of the story is, & maybe no one reading this is young enough to benefit from my Learning A Moral Lesson & Passing It On � the moral of the story is, a) don't go to foreign countries with your high school boyfriend whom you will soon not like very much anyway & b) if you do, make him take all the pictures so he is not in any.
