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I can only listen to right:

Today I noticed that the pictures scare me. Do not bother me when I make a picture in itself.

But I really have a fear of being immobile, in the photo.

My father has started to use a machine of the '70s, which repeatedly photographing the dog, I mean, grow apart, you do not do that then who knows what's so striking to immobilize the time.

Bad luck has it that even I sometimes end up in these pictures, made with difficulty, looking for the correct exposure, putting several minutes for the fire.

That machine is a carrier of memories.

Probably the picture of my mother that are more closely linked, were taken with the machine. Those in which she was beautiful, dressed in orange suits, with eyeshadow iridescent silver-white, now do not even produce more than dell'Estée Lauder, quell'ombretto, because I tried. On the other hand have started to do that pencil-proof black tears.

If I think that now, the same machine captures me, and almost always in my pajamas, make-up, lying on the floor with the dog on him, I'm sorry for the machine.

She used to lean my father, my beautiful mother, my grandmother and my grandfather fat with dogs in tow. To my aunt with a polka dot skirt, with my cousin's eyes of China, but green, small and beautiful. She was used to homemade canned tomatoes in the summer, the pipers at Christmas, my mother dressed in purple, in front of my father. My father on the shore of the sea, holding me in her arms, which are so small that within it all on one hand.

Surely you remember very well when I broke my front teeth. Please remember Favolino, my stuffed dog. About Me chocolate cake shaped house. My first real dog, Tenery Terry, who had first and last name because it was a very black cocker pin up.

My grandmother who ate green apples, because he had diabetes. My grandmother was washing her hair in the sink. Those who had long hair down to her knees, and it took a whole day to wash them, dry them and put them in braids styling onion. Hair that had a ritual to stop in multiple images, do not ever forget.

I have a huge picture of me that I talk to a flower.

of me I eat watermelon, I play with the chickens. I walk around the house to sit outside. Three years, eh.

Photos not to forget, that perhaps would not be served.

Also I have done lots of photos. Than last year, I have deleted almost all of them. Just look at them made me sick, made me sick.

I deleted photos of moments that I wanted to forget. Why are not moments when I think back with nostalgia, are moments that I think with terror, with disgust. I see a me that actually does not belong to me, even remotely.

There are people who are always good in photos because they show their best side, if you show how they really are, would do horror.

And then the pictures scare me because they are there to remember how and who you were.

But in this period of my life I'm ready to appreciate again.

And even though I'm really curious to see me scare stops right now, because I like so much ...

I do not take good pictures

cuz I have the kind of beauty

That moves ...

(Ani Difranco)