It's the hot summer. It is London and the brown waters of the Thames, and Theresa May who has taken leave from the Brexit drama. It's my son and I, the third summer we are in London – the hottest summer since the 40 century. It is referred to as an "alarm clock" – but will it be remembered as that? Will the dangerous heat leave deep enough traces? On the way to a photo exhibition we talk about such things. Also about what will happen to the photograph, at a time when it no longer represents truth.
The story of the story
My son is fourteen now, and preoccupied with the wars – World War I and II. The interest in the story is a wedge into him, through the games I do not play, the concepts I do not understand. . .
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