Lartigue

Eleanor might frown when she realises I have stolen from her blog, but I didn't know anything about Jacques Henri Lartigue (photographer, 1984-1986) before I read her post, and now I do and I like him, so surely not to mention him would just be silly.

The photographs he took as a child, which was around the turn of the last century, display the wonderfully uncomplicated joy one only feels when so young and unaffected. I am currently reading 'Interpretation of a Murder', by Jed Rubenfeld, who begins the story with an observation of the adult choice between happiness and meaning, which has a certain miserable truth.