A redbucket on a non-descript drive way is typical of a photograph taken by my aunty. She never composed an image; she can barely operate a camera. Lillian was too busy talking to someone or yelling at a dog to get out of the way than to compose an image. I've held onto this polaroid for many years, but I've never interrogated it before. It's eerie, it's beautiful — a lazy word, I know — and it reminds me of my childhood. In it I can see my own direction, and I've never seen that until today. Uncanny world we live in.