There is old memory in snow
Old ice, old hauntings. Twenty-two hitherto unknown, unprocessed negatives from the Shackleton expedition (Ross Sea Party, 1914–17), discovered in an exploration hut. They are truly amazing. The damage especially makes them look like the photography of ghosts.



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(And I want to go and read your back pages, and I will do, later tonight.)
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Yes! And the way he seems to fade in and out of the crates. That's actually my favorite of the pictures in terms of story, but I loved the three-dimensional texture of the one I linked, the blistering and the fernlike crackles of the silver layered into the emulsion like the lid of a shadow box, as if setting it beneath glass, or time.
(And I want to go and read your back pages, and I will do, later tonight.)
(They'll still be there! Enjoy!)
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Yeah.
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Did you ever hear "The Ballad of Tom Crean"?
I believe it's written by a man name of Cliff Wedgbury, but I first heard it from a friend and teacher of mine, Jimmy Crowley.
Here he is singing it with another friend of mine:
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(I should probably put my photos of there up on my Flickr one of these days).
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Yes!
P.S. Just missing the smell: cold-crisp and lanolin, paper and sacking. Mostly lanolin.
Poem.
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They look like your poetry.
Nine
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Thank you.
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You're welcome! I sent them first to