I remember the place but not the day

Poem - I remember the place but not the day

Standing still a special day.
The place I know.
The path alongside their house.
The coal shed.
The house next door.
Me my face my hands my legs my shoes.
My book, my cap.
My Gabardine raincoat to keep me warm and dry.
Me ready for school
The path the bricks along the edge.
The shadows heavy on the wall.
Me my dad, together.
I remembered the place but not the day

The poem was written and video made for my Ph.D. Exhibition 

Rational

Celia Lury tells us that snapshots or at least photographs are prosthetic memories. The Kodak Corporation sold the idea of the snapshot as a way of preserving our memories. Maybe that is only true if it was you who took the photograph. Not only is it a popular notion that we take snapshots to help us remember there is a significant academic discourse that also tries to convince us that there is an inextricable link between photographs and memory.

I was moved to research this notion further when I was faced with the paradox of the "First day at school" snapshot, a photograph of me aged seven, which triggered vivid memories of the place, when I first saw it in a family album, not of the day, even though I was clearly present.