It's kind of a stupid story - symbolic, psychological mumbo-jumbo. But the story struck me. I take hundreds of pictures of my children, but rarely pictures of other people. Do these people not matter to me? When I'm old and spend most of my time squinting at photo albums and print-outs of my blog, don't I want to remember what they looked like? Won't my children and grandchildren want to know what I looked like?
So I've been making a concerted effort lately to take more photos of people other than my three sons, and to ask Michael to take photos of me. Unfortunately, we keep ending up with photos that look like this:
"Why are you taking a picture of me?"
Is this really a look we want immortalized?
Thank you, double chin.
A ton of shots taken from this angle - me looking up at Michael.