Scheherazade – X — The Disney Log Flume

A journey looking through family photos. This is part of a larger piece about time alone in my family's summer home after the death of my parents: our music, our photos, and, above all, our letters.

I confess to an almost religious affection for my own image as a child and then, more broadly, to pictures of my brother and my parents as children, and their parents and their parents’ parents as children all the way back, up and around the banks of the river and somewhere back in time well out of sight.

It’s not bewildered infancy I’m thinking of with…