TimeIt stands still and is clipped from its surroundings and is pinned down perfectly to a small rectangle of paper. A sunken stone at the bottom of the river that rushes over it constantly, infinitely. The stone stays still, stuck in its place and time is fixed in a semi permanent posture. The photograph as a rock: time flows over it while it stays still. On a sandy bank just decades down the river, we can reach our hand in from the Now and pluck out a pure specimen of the Then: Time re-captured.
The subject does not remember when this photograph was taken, nor does he remember where, or why. He is certain that it was not on a camping trip, and he is uncertain about whether or not that is a cat he once owned (it mustn't be, he thinks, because he would have never brought him on a trip). He must have dropped this stone at some point and forgotten too much of it, its shape and its pitch. It's been retrieved, though, from the bottom and has been dragged back up to the surface and, when examining it through the sun and shade of today, one can't help but smile at his smile and the sudden appearance of a cute black cat on the flannel shoulder which spells in large letters the wonderful word "surprise".
