This is my son, (the) Victor, and his great-grandfather, also named Victor… which, in a universe slightly weirder than this one, could have been a total coincidence.
Our lives are linear, but not so much a road, as a spool of string unwinding on a table: the line rises and lowers, twists and wraps around itself as youth becomes maturity and maturity falls to age, as we learn and unlearn. And at some point those lines meet other lines… this is a photo of such a meeting.
It’s the perfect intersection of age and youth, when the newly achieved capabilities of one are nearly mirrored by the gradual incapability of the other, and vice versa. My son, Victor The Younger, about to walk, and speak, and understand the basic lessons.
My grandfather, the elder, losing names and words but with so many lessons to teach… seeing a past filled with hope, regrets and plans.
…and my son, totally oblivious to any future at all, even though he’s sitting on its lap.
Every photo I have of these two together is my favourite, but this is my favourite of all those photos… I took it in 2010, so (the) Victor would have been seven-months, and (original) Victor would be 88-years old.
[…my girlfriend read this before I could publish it and vetoed all of the funny bits.]