It is said that those who live in glass cases are more attuned to the turning of the world, so fine are their walls that almost everything that can crawls in. When the Alpha stirs the glass stirs with her. The panes shudder and fissures spiderweb their surface, the assorted paraphernalia jumps in response. A scattering of tarot shifts underfoot as she—a small thing, a trinket of a being, a denizen of small antiquities—moves to sit, to wait away the small shiverings and stammerings of the odditorium. The Moon slips forward, trembling in its way, and the others follow suit. Death. The Star. The Wheel of Fortune. Justice. She will try to puzzle it out—the meaning and the movements of the cards, there not by chance but by sheer force of will—but for now she watches the clefts travel through the glass unhindered as water on sand.
This is a little contraction. A new photo, created using one old photo and several new photos containing lots of old things, most older than me. The little Ava has been waiting since 2012 to find a home in a photograph, moving from folder to folder, idea to idea. She has finally settled into Definition and has found a home among the oddments and the old things.
It was a challenge but a pleasant one. Some of the items tucked away on this shelf are favourites of mine. Some are things which barely ever come out. This image was part play, part story, part remembrance.