Pictures tell part of the story

Pictures - for all the changes of costume and citizenry - tell only part of the story

I’m a terrible photographer and dislike taking pictures almost as much as being photographed. Even so, on our family vacation, I am my daughter’s personal photographer. She frames the scene, peeps through the viewfinder, makes me crouch so I get the elements essential to her perfect picture — the sun setting in the west, its rays creating a gilded silhouette amidst the deodars, shrubs of hydrangea in the foreground, the mountain trail behind, while in the centre of the picture she practises lying in a hammock. She stares into the lens, then away and into the sunset, and I must