A few days ago, I dropped off a bunch of film at Moonphoto Lab in Greenwood.  One of the black and white rolls had only seven frames on it.  These are two of those frames.  I'm fairly certain it was a cheap Kodak film, and the lighting conditions in the bathroom of our old home were less than ideal.  Crystal shot these two frames of Gibson & Ella a few years ago, as any mother bathing two toddlers would, very quickly, and without concern for exactness.  Today is the first time I saw these images, and it caused me to realize something I often overlook in my own mad dash for idealism in the photography world.  There is inexplicable beauty in imperfection.  A photograph is akin to a favorite song, or a familiar scent.  It has its own way of taking you by the hand and leading you back to a time you've nearly forgotten; its own way of forcing you to close your eyes, crack a subtle smile, and relive time traveled.