the other day, i was surfing the internet and came across an article about courtney love's recent drug-related arrest. i went trawling for photos of her and kurt cobain just for kicks because i suddenly realized that it has been nine years since his suicide. i haven't listened to nevermind or in utero for ages. oddly, i became a fan of nirvana after cobain's untimely suicide. the music appealed to me because of my prolonged stage of adolescent angst. not to mention the fact that the girl i had a crush on loved nirvana.
i found a website with a blurry photo of courtney love holding her infant daughter, francis bean, on her hip. looking at that grainy image, a sense of vertigo opened up inside at the sense of the chasm of years between now and then. it was stronger than the bottom falling out feeling i had a few months ago when i encountered the uncannily blue eyes of francis bean, now grown into a lithe and graceful preteen, staring out of a magazine. as lived, time has a jagged and sudden quality, but in photographs, it's experienced like your remembered favorite autumn -- soft, surprising, and irretrievably lost.
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