Confession

Last night I went to my grandparents' house for a barbecue. After dinner, my auntie pulled out some old photos of my grandfather that I'd never seen before. There was one of him and his four brothers outside a church. I showed it to my grandfather and he couldn't tell which one was him. When I pointed it out to him, he said (in Italian, so I'm paraphrasing here) "That can't be me. I never had that much hair!" I asked him what the story was behind the photo, and he told me that he and his brothers had just gone to confession at the church, which was apparently somewhat of an event in those days. They all had cigarettes in their hands.

For some reason, I couldn't take my eyes off the photo. I dunno if it was because it was a relic of a bygone era, or because I liked seeing what my grandfather and uncles looked like when they were young, but it really intrigued me.

It made me wonder if photos of us now will have the same power over young people when we're old.

Anyway, no real point to all of this. It's just been playing on my mind today.

I'm gonna get really drunk tomorrow night.