I was sitting on the sofa, not reading, working or watching television.I sat idly, my mind a blank. My eyes wandered to photographs on the wall and on the desk, table and bookshelves of the room. It was quiet and my attention rested on these scenes: my son at 2 years of age sitting in a swing in a park in Montreal ; my daughter celebrating her Bat Mitzvah on Massada in Israel, surrounded by grandparents , younger, healthier and energetic enough to ascend the mountain on a very hot August day; a framed Hallah cover sent to my beloved grandfather by his sister from the Land of Israel in the 1920's; a photo of me running the New York marathon-all moments frozen in time,such a long time ago and yet feeling like each moment happened only yesterday.
I have always loved photography.I continue to dabble, especially in this time of growing leisure in my life. Perhaps its a way of putting a halt on the mad rush of time.To photograph is to meditate on time and its passage, stopping its irreversible flight.
The painting, the photograph are gifts of the human mind and soul that lessen the dread of our mortality. Stop and look at your family pictures and be thankful for those slices of eternity.
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