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- Рэй Брэдбери
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"
I
saw
your
picture
once
,
years
ago
.
"
"
I
never
let
my
picture
be
taken
.
"
"
This
was
an
old
one
,
taken
when
you
were
twenty
.
"
"
Oh
,
that
.
It
’
s
quite
a
joke
.
Each
time
I
give
to
a
charity
or
attend
a
ball
they
dust
that
picture
off
and
print
it
.
Everyone
in
town
laughs
;
even
I
"
"
It
’
s
cruel
of
the
paper
.
"
"
No
.
I
told
them
,
If
you
want
a
picture
of
me
,
use
the
one
taken
back
in
1853
.
Let
them
remember
me
that
way
.
Keep
the
lid
down
,
in
the
name
of
the
good
Lord
,
during
the
service
.
"
"
I
’
ll
tell
you
all
about
it
.
"
He
folded
his
hands
and
looked
at
them
and
paused
a
moment
.
He
was
remembering
the
picture
now
and
it
was
very
clear
in
his
mind
.
There
was
time
,
here
in
the
garden
to
think
of
every
aspect
of
the
photograph
and
of
Helen
Loomis
,
very
young
,
posing
for
her
picture
the
first
time
,
alone
and
beautiful
.
He
thought
of
her
quiet
,
shyly
smiling
face
.
It
was
the
face
of
spring
,
it
was
the
face
of
summer
,
it
was
the
warmness
of
clover
breath
.
Pomegranate
glowed
in
her
lips
,
and
the
noon
sky
in
her
eyes
.
To
touch
her
face
was
that
always
new
experience
of
opening
your
window
one
December
morning
,
early
,
and
putting
out
your
hand
to
the
first
white
cool
powdering
of
snow
that
had
come
,
silently
,
with
no
announcement
,
in
the
night
.
And
all
of
this
,
this
breath
-
warmness
and
plum
-
tenderness
was
held
forever
in
one
miracle
of
photographic
chemistry
which
no
clock
winds
could
blow
upon
to
change
one
hour
or
one
second
;
this
fine
first
cool
white
snow
would
never
melt
,
but
live
a
thousand
summers
.
That
was
the
photograph
;
that
was
the
way
he
knew
her
.
Now
he
was
talking
again
,
after
the
remembering
and
the
thinking
over
and
the
holding
of
the
picture
in
his
mind
.
"
When
I
first
saw
that
picture
—
it
was
a
simple
,
straightforward
picture
with
a
simple
hairdo
—
I
didn
’
t
know
it
had
been
taken
that
long
ago
.
The
item
in
the
paper
said
something
about
Helen
Loomis
marshaling
the
Town
Ball
that
night
.
I
tore
the
picture
from
the
paper
.
I
carried
it
with
me
all
that
day
.
I
intended
going
to
the
ball
.
Then
,
late
in
the
afternoon
,
someone
saw
me
looking
at
the
picture
,
and
told
me
about
it
.
How
the
picture
of
the
beautiful
girl
had
been
taken
so
long
ago
and
used
every
year
since
by
the
paper
.
And
they
said
I
shouldn
’
t
go
to
the
Town
Ball
that
night
,
carrying
that
picture
and
looking
for
you
.
"
