Rue St. Rustique by Eugène Atget
Rue St. Rustique by Eugène Atget or The Nearly Coherent Thoughts of a Girl in an Art Museum I have been on this street before, is what I think when it first catches my attention, and I pause to look closer. Is it the Netherlands, or Germany, Belgium, France, Austria? How can they be so separate and distinct, yet sit so closely to each other, such tight neighbors on their tiny street section of the world. Each country like these homes, piled and placed right next to each other the way my daughter builds with Legos. As if claustrophobia is a made up, imaginary thing existing only in the world of adults. I finally check the tag next to the photo, and see that it was taken in 1922, two years after my grandmother was born. The photo was printed in 1957, a year after my father was born. My grandmother passed away two weeks ago. She was 99 years, 5 months, and 28 days old. My dad, once her little baby boy, is now grandpa to my own world building, Lego loving children. But it wasn't that l