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  • I decided to to a little tidying in the basement this afternoon.

    A little tidying it was too. Barely more than moving a few boxes around.

    For one of those boxes turned out to contain a collection of photographic prints.

    I sat down and began to look.
  • In a ripped plastic grocery bag, I found about fifty pictures.

    Dating from the summer of 1991 and from Brazil. During a two week touring vacation in the company of my parents and shortly following the breakup of my first marriage.

    I looked at the faded photographs. Perhaps a scan into the computer and little Photoshop freshening-up might bring out some more detail.

    So here are a few examples. Some, such as the prior picture, I recognize. Rio de Janeiro looking towards a favela built on the high slopes surrounding the city.
  • Others are a mystery to me.

    What is this place? A grand hotel? A luxury apartment building?

    Where is it?

    I have no recollection.
  • Some are helpfully signposted.

    Forgotten Argentina as well, evidently.
  • Some places, like the Iguazu Falls and the Itaipu Dam are so enormous that they form much more powerful memories. These visits I remember.
  • Two street scenes. I cannot place them at all.
  • A tourist market in Ouro Preto

    Maybe.
  • Back in Rio at some tourist bar.
  • These days all my photographs, gathered and stored digitally, are neatly filed in named and dated folders duplicated over many hard drives.

    I can find anything I photographed since 2000 in a matter of minutes.

    This I do, quite frequently. Little is forgotten.

    Does it matter?

    Is it necessary to catalog my life?

    Looking back at these old prints, still - even as I write here - tugging out recollections not visited for decades, I wonder.
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