when i was six, i barely talked.
actually, im not sure if i was exactly six. the mute button was probably on from age three to seven or eight, but most of my memories from childhood are hard to gage my age... so, i always assume i was six when anything from my early childhood happened. i dont know how six became the magic number to most of my memories. maybe age six was the best year of my life and im still trying to get back to it. maybe nothing happened at all when i was six, and now my memory is trying to fill in all the holes.
so i didnt talk. i had my thumb in my mouth most of the time, and i just stared and absorbed. i think all this absorption and observation had to become outward somehow. when i was six (or whatever age i truly was), my cousin videotaped me talking and fabricating stories for twenty minutes. twenty minutes! i have no recollection of being painfully shy, besides trying to ask strangers for the time and not being able to do it. so this videotape is incredibly beautiful to me-- i would have no memory today of the importance of speech to a mute little six-or-something-year-old girl had i never seen this footage. this brings video and photography to great importance to our lives. a snapshot can remind us of something we'd never thought of. or, the funny thing about memory is seeing a photograph and assuming its your memory can actually fool your brain into creating a memory that never happened.
being mute doesnt mean i cant put on a debbie boone record and make up dances in front of my mom and the camera...
...man i dont even recognize myself.
i took these pictures from stills of video. this is the train that took me out of rome. this is the train that i think about almost daily.
those german landscapes felt so familiar
those clouds in berlin had been seen before in another year, in another location, from my unrecognizable, six-year-old eyes.