Incredible but true: I managed to forget all about the Shoebox Sunday series within a week of its inception. And I'm having a hard time finding someone to blame... So let's say it was Easter, with all its distractions: Eva and Geoffrey (or, as Isabelle would say, Zufi) visiting, the egg painting business, and even more important, the competition for best painted egg (which Isabelle won hands down with her Kandinsky egg), the sun (finally out), Isabelle's cold (worth two more sleepless nights), the home-made fried calamari (How to improve on the batter? How to avoid entire kitchen being covered in olive oil sizzles? Any tips, please in the comments section...) and many many other things...Anyway, with only 24 hours delay, the second episode. It was my brother Michael's birthday this weekend. He turned 26. This picture was taken at my grand-parents' Moscow appartment in 1981, when he was 1 and I was 7, before the jealousies, the martyrdoms, the misunderstandings, the fights and the murder attempts, at a time when we really liked each other a bit more than a lot. Sort of like now.Shoebox Sunday_
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