This collection of photos includes images from the book and many that don’t.
Pulling Strings
When I was five, my uncle took me to a marionette show … Later, when I tried to recall that Christmas morning, the Christmas that came two months after the performance at the school, the only thing I could remember was the box that held the marionette …
Mother
Photographs of my mother as a young woman show someone who looks a lot more carefree than the mother I knew. Snapshots taken when I was growing up show a woman forcing a smile in every shot.
Father
My father was a quiet man. If he put more than two sentences together, that was a speech. There was nothing forbidding or taciturn about his silence, though. On the contrary, it was somehow companionable, almost comforting. He wore his quietness lightly, like a windbreaker.