Every once in a while, my grandparents will uncover things, photographs or letters or small objects, that they didn’t remember having. A few months ago, they uncovered some old photographs. By old, I mean that they are of my great-grandmother as a young woman, back when she taught in Bulgaria, before she was forced to flee her homeland for the United States. I cannot stop looking at these photos. My great-grandma died when I was 13, so I have no way of finding out who all of these people are or what became of any of them, if she even knew that. I’ve blown them up and have them framed in my room, and the curiosity will not go away.
My great-grandmother is in the front row, second from the left, with the dark kerchief tied over her hair.
In this one, my great-grandmother is the third from the right, wearing a long, dark gown with her hand up to her chin. Pretty impressive for early photography, considering how long they all would have had to hold these positions.
A Patriot in Prague 