an image diary

"And if he left off dreaming about you, where do you suppose you'd be? ... You'd be nowhere. Why, you're only a sort of thing in his dream! If that there King was to wake you'd go out -- bang! -- just like a candle!"

"Hush! You'll be waking him, I'm afraid, if you make so much noise."

"Well it's no use your talking about waking him when you're only one of the things in his dream. You know very well you're not real."

Monday, November 21, 2005
























Going to tour the Morenci mine the first week of December--made my reservation today. Grew up there, but haven't been inside. I used to dream about the insides, the tailings dams behind the chainlink fencing, the smelters. And still I won't see the molten ore, the rows of anodes in sulferic acid and copper sulfate. They won't show them to me, tourist, camera in hand. I am taking my camera. I am reading about concentrating, refining, leaching. I will tell them I went to the lookout point every week with my father for 12 years, that I need not go back. I will say show me something I haven't known but should have. Show me what my father knows. Show me forging.

"and what is the use of a book...without pictures or conversations?"


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