EVERYBODY LOVES A GOOD DOUBLE EXPOSURE. Well, nearly every photographer I know does; you really have to try to get a digital camera to double expose an image, and even film cameras have been mechanically foolproof for so long that an accident like this is rare to the point of being virtually impossible.
The poetry of a double exposure is how it evokes memory itself. We don't remember discrete images from the past but an overlap of memories, each one tipping into the other with some large or small overlap. A shot like this brings back several minutes in a memorable day, moments glimpse through each other like movements caught in a strobe light.
A wedding, of course, probably during the war or shortly afterward, judging by the fashions. My brother and I have stared long and hard at this shot; we're both pretty certain it's the backyard of the house on Grandville, and while my brother thinks it might be my dad's brother, Uncle Tommy, marrying Aunt Matty, I have a funny feeling it might be his sister, Helen, and her husband Tommy LaRose.
Whoever they are, they look happy, which is only right and proper.
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