Photo Album - micro story

It turns out that the other day the living room TV broke and I had to look for the warranty to call the technician. So, yeah, I didn't know where I'd put it and I started rummaging through drawers, cupboards and shelves. I searched and searched tirelessly —I'm persistent—, and on top of that, the only one to blame for it not showing up was me. So in the end it appeared. But, without even looking for it, something else appeared too: my photo album.

One of those old albums, with the photos glued in and the plastic sleeves sticking to each other, the kind that are forgotten in so many houses.

So, so you can get to know me a little better, I invite you to look through it with me.

My first photo is in black and white: the one where you see me with my head stuck in a sink while someone pours water over me; that's me. I was very stressed and I burst into tears.

Next. In this one I'm in a swimsuit next to a sandcastle. A crab got into my backpack and I spent several days screaming every time I saw someone carrying one.

Here you can see me with my face covered in flour and a tray of cookies that look like rocks. I wanted to surprise my mother, and you should have seen how angry she got when she walked into the kitchen and saw the mess I'd made.

The first communion photo. We were dressed as little white nuns, without knowing what was ahead of us. The one you see next to me, with a big chocolate stain on her outfit, is my best friend; I was holding the cup with both hands and the chocolate fell.

Here's my cousin with his bike. I'm wearing knee pads and a helmet, sitting on it. I was so sure of myself that ten metres later I went face-first into a hedge. My cousin still laughs about how we had to run away.

In this one I'm up a ladder, holding onto a rope, tied to the branch of the tree in the background. I was going to launch myself and swing like Tarzan; the rope was three metres too long and I crashed to the ground. Girl stuff.

The school choir photo. It's from before they kicked me out, because they couldn't keep in tune; I didn't care and I cried for three weeks.

And now this one: it was at a carnival. Needless to say, the one dressed as a ballet dancer shaped like a pear is me. I don't know why, but no matter how I disguise myself, they always recognise me, but it's me.

Lastly, the tiny photo, with my hair tucked behind my ears and a surprised look on my face, is from my ID card. It was taken in a photo booth. The photo is genuine and that's why it's the one I like best.

 

mvf