Got more detail on my paternal great-grandparents yesterday.
My great-grandfather was a Jew who escaped persecution in Romania. We don’t know anything else about his family. If he had any, if they survived…
There are so many untold stories behind the sparse list of dates, locations, births, deaths… Hurts that lasted generations, that sent ripples that have shaped the people I know.
I can’t tell if I want to know the stories, or just create them.
Is it opportunistic to want to gather these details, build that skeleton of truth and rumour, and then clothe it in fantasies and dreams of my own making? But I can’t help making those stories for myself, filling in the gaps. Obsessive.
In other news, boys are stupid, dull, lazy creatures.
Start time: 3:00 pm
Location: couch/living room