Another kind of patchwork memory mending. Digital patchwork. Fabulous in its own way, but I can't help feeling it lacks substance if you can't flip it over and see the tiny stitches holding it together, see where the joins were made, where one piece finishes and another piece starts. A kind of false memory, masquerading as a true one. But I suppose memory is like that anyway. A memory years old can be undone by learning something new...a truth you thought was absolute suddenly isn't any more, something you believed in dissolves into nothing, having never existed at all, or perhaps becomes something entirely different. Nothing is fixed, even the past is mutable. History is written in sand.
My maternal grandmother's wedding...a little Photoshop magic