documenting worlds
photo essays by annie appel
Nostalgia, (2001)*

Still life photography a little too still,
too tidy, too slow, too careful, too quiet

until that lonely winter in the half-emptied
warehouse where we'd made a life together.
 A wedding gift to my parents, the owl was filled  
with cinnamon and sugar for sweet toast
Soon after I was left for another, bed springs found on a walk
through a field, that turned out to be
couch springs, after all.
Headless angel, for no fault of her own, salvaged from a heap of
imperfect figurines behind a workshop in Mexico.
Mom's wedding shoes, 5 1/2 B.
The lady lint brush from Grandma's shelf.
After you left me you sent this vase
from France filled with flowers.
A life-sized doll, stripped naked, hanging from a
post surrounded by a circle of laughing women.
"That's not funny," and they were silent
as I left, doll in hand
Dad's exam chair, from his office on Arizona Street.
A fountain pen I found on the sidewalk near her house.