{"id":20897,"date":"2016-08-13T14:22:43","date_gmt":"2016-08-13T18:22:43","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/?p=20897"},"modified":"2016-08-13T14:22:43","modified_gmt":"2016-08-13T18:22:43","slug":"iv-snapshots-in-real-time","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/2016\/08\/iv-snapshots-in-real-time\/","title":{"rendered":"IV. Snapshots in Real Time"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignnone size-medium wp-image-20924\" src=\"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/Gloucester_2015-09-08-300x225.jpeg\" alt=\"Gloucester_2015-09-08\" width=\"300\" height=\"225\" srcset=\"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/Gloucester_2015-09-08-300x225.jpeg 300w, https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/Gloucester_2015-09-08-768x576.jpeg 768w, https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/Gloucester_2015-09-08-1024x768.jpeg 1024w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 300px) 100vw, 300px\" \/><\/p>\n<p>Without meaning to,<br \/>\nI&#8217;ve taken mental snapshots<br \/>\nthroughout my life<br \/>\nthat never leave me.<br \/>\nRandom things like<\/p>\n<p>A boy crossing the street<br \/>\nin front of the house on Poplar Street<\/p>\n<p>My grandfather waiting for me<br \/>\nOn the train platform in Ocala<\/p>\n<p>The sapphire blue of<br \/>\nthe Mediterranean sea<\/p>\n<p>Sometimes the images<br \/>\nambush me when I least<br \/>\nexpect it, flickering past,<br \/>\ndemanding I look,<br \/>\ninsisting I remember.<\/p>\n<p>I must make a confession, though.<br \/>\nI have a paper bag in my<br \/>\ndresser drawer that contains<br \/>\n12 rolls of undeveloped 35 mm film,<br \/>\nsome more than two decades old.<br \/>\nI have no idea what images they<br \/>\ncontain, and no desire to find out.<br \/>\nI can only imagine the sleep I&#8217;d lose<br \/>\nif my brain ever got a hold of them.<\/p>\n<p>Art: Street scene in Gloucester, Massachusetts 2015 by Virginia Galfo<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Without meaning to, I&#8217;ve taken mental snapshots throughout my life that never leave me. Random things like A boy crossing the street in front of the house on Poplar Street My grandfather waiting for me On the train platform in Ocala The sapphire blue of&#8230;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":708,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[11],"tags":[1535,10,1536],"class_list":["post-20897","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-half-marathon-poem","tag-photographs","tag-poetry","tag-snapshots"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/20897","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/708"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=20897"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/20897\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":21043,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/20897\/revisions\/21043"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=20897"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=20897"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=20897"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}