One small step?
Some time ago, here in London, there was a series of adverts on The Underground for an exhibition commemorating the Holocaust. The image used on the posters, a huge pile of abandoned shoes belonging to the victims, has always struck a powerful cord with me. The image of normal, everyday artefacts imbued with horrific meaning is all the more powerful for its mundanity.
Maybe for related reasons I always find my daughter's abandoned shoes equally poignant. I don't quite no why. Maybe it is the mundanity, the everydayness of the image combined with its inanimate state - the life she gives the shoes isn't there - her "path" isn't being walked.
It is such a small step...to no step......