We went down a huge mountain, through a vast forest, peered across a raging river, crossed multitudes of suspension bridges slung across deep canyons, hiked across the great planes, then, on the final hill home, hit Heather’s backyard with an amoeba of children. Here is a photo featuring the Almassalkhi clan’s amazing carry-all contraption: Mommy.

This photo is a lesson in the extreme foreshortening effects of a wide-angle lens. Notice how my 6-month baby looks larger than my 6-foot brother, despite the fact that one is only a couple feet in front of the other. Notice, also, that my husband and my father are sitting within whispering distance, yet Dad’s head is positively dwarfed by Martin’s. If I were to use a lens with a longer length and step back a minimum of 10 more feet, our relative proportions would appear more pleasing— tho I’d have to purchase a new camera and punch a hole in the front of the house.

I keep trying to emulate a photograph taken of me at my second Thanksgiving, when I had just recently turned one. It’s rather difficult. Mom suggests I cook Akiva a turkey for his 1st birthday, in May, to see if we can do a better job.

Original:

Facsimile:

We went to the Shelburne Museum to see the horses come off the carousel. They break down the carousel for the winter. The horses spend their time in the Circus Building, dreaming of spring when they come out, leap back upon the carousel, and gallop once more.

Dismantling the carousel was slated for Tuesday and Wednesday. When we showed up not too long after opening on Tuesday, the carousel had been completely taken apart. We arrived just in time to see them closing the doors to the Circus Building.

So I went inside where ghosts of horses dream above a small circus,

waiting for embodiment in spring.