I have been working with this for quite a few hours this morning, and while doing so I also had time to think. This is a photo of my Grandmother as a young woman and my Father as a little child. While I was photographing the old portrait of my Grandmother I looked into her eyes, and remembered her with love. Why did I not ask her how my father was as a child, and why did I never ask him how my Grandmother was as a young mother, when I had the opportunity ? Now they are both dead, and have gone out of the time. But not quite, because they are both still in my heart.