Abigail Friedman

Several summers ago I was walking my dog along our boat dock, when a swan paddled out of the marsh—hoping, no doubt, for some tossed bits of bread. It’s a startling thing to have a picture so suddenly dominated by a new element. The entire vista of marsh and sky and water seemed to zoom in on this swan—which became, for a breath, the center of the universe. It felt a little like having vertigo, and I wanted to remember the moment. I didn’t have a camera. I didn’t have anyone to I could grab and say, “Look! Look at the swan!” So I did something that was completely and utterly out of character for me—I fished out a pen and paper and wrote a poem about it. . . read full review… (altro)