On pavements and the bark of trees I have found whole worlds.
He was my father’s friend, the one he made in WWII when they were young men eyeballing MacArthur and wondering what the future would bring. His wife was Myrtle, and I expect it is her shadow in the photograph. He sent this photo to my father to show off a new car or a new suit or both.
They stayed in contact for their whole lives, mostly through letters. When I asked Dad why they never actually made plans to meet in person again, I was younger and did not understand that whole worlds can exist in open spaces.