clicking through a friend’s blog tonight i ran across this poem that makes more sense now than it would have to me, back in 2009, when r thought to share it. i recently bought a collection by adrienne rich. i chose it because i didn’t own a collection by her yet, but also largely for the author photo on the back: she is beautiful.For an Album, by Adrienne Rich Our story isn’t a file of photographs faces laughing under green leaves or sunlight doorways, on the verge of driving away, our story is not about women victoriously perched on the one sunny day of the conference, nor lovers displaying love. Our story is of moments when even slow motion moved too fast for the shutter of the camera: words that blew our lives apart, like so, eyes that cut and caught each other, mime of the operating room where gas and knives quote each other moments before the telephone starts ringing: our story is how still we stood, how fast. photo from here.