erelocked,sowehadtoshimmyuhecrawlspadintoaclosetlikeroomthatshelteredamazeofplumbing.Byfollowingthepipes,weeventuallymadeourwayintotheinteriorofthehouse,endingupinthecellar.Tomakeourselvesquieter,welookoffourshoesahemaroundournecksbeforesneakingupthestepsandslowlyopeningthedoortothekit.Theroomsmelledofrememberedbread.

    WhileSmaoladLuchógraidedthepantry,Itiptoedthroughtheroomstolocatethefrontdoorandaneasyexit.Onthewallsofthelivingroomhungagalleryofphotographicportraitsthatreadmainlyasuingshadows,butasIpassedbyone,illuminatedbyawhiteshaftofmoonlight,Ifroze.Twofigures,ayoungmotherandherinfantchild,liftedtohershouldertofacethecamera.Thebabylookedlikeeveryotherbaby,roundandsmoothasabuttoherdidnotstaredirectlyintothelensbutwatchedhersonfromtheersofhereyes.Herhairstyleandclothingsuggestedanotherera,ahherbeguilingsmileandhopefulgaze,appearedhardlymorethanachildwithachild.Sheliftedher,asifpreparingtoburstoutlaughingwithjoyatthebabeinarms.Thephotographtriggeredarushofchemicalstomybrain.Dizzyanddisoriented,Iknew,butcouldnotplace,theirfaces.Therewereotherphotographs—alongwhitedressstandioashadow,amaninapeakedcap—butIkeptingbaotherandchild,putmyfingersontheglass,tracedthetoursofthosefigures.Iwaoremember.Foolishly,Iwenttothewallandturhelamp.

    Someonegaspedijustasthepicturesonthewalljumpedintoclarity.Twoolderpeoplewithsevereeyeglasses.Afatbaby.ButIcouldseeclearlythephotographthathadsoentrancedme,andbesideitanotherwhichdisturbedmemore.Therewasaboy,eyesskyward,lookingupiionofsomet