photos
Yesterday on the steps outside the Stabi I tried to take a selfie of the two of us. Just one. Hanna got angry, the first time I've seen her angry. She turned away and walked ahead of me for ten minutes without talking.
Later, over tea, she explained. She thinks photos are absurd. We all get old and die, and that's that, and a photo pretends otherwise. You spend the good moment holding a phone up instead of being in it. "If you want to remember something, write it down," she said. "Or record it. Then at least you have to pay attention."
I think there's also something else. She told me once that she had an accident as a kid, a branch, a bike, something like that, and her left eye has never seen well since. She tilts her head a bit when she reads. Maybe she just hates how she looks in pictures and the philosophy came afterwards. Everyone has a version of that.
Anyway. I won't ask again. I'll write things down.