...images of empty rooms and squat, vacant refrigerators, of silent trepidation and gentle remorse settling in the dust, of the dead endlessly staring out of photo frames for what was once their making and theirs to make, of children sniffing silently in the moonlit attic, of precious watches hidden in secret panels from looting Japanese soldiers, of an enraged son crossing the generations to admonish his grandfather, of a business and books and a family that once lived here... ...and with a click, a snap, a flick of the switch... previous | next