She told me, that is to say, my mother, the mistress of the very tall tale, told me, that before she met my father she fell in love with a very rich Jewish man whose aged mother strongly disapproved of her, a gentile, so much so that she would disinherit him if they married. So they decided to wait until after his mother had died. My mother, though, tired of waiting and left him.

I didn't believe it. 

When my grandmother died an album was found, and therein a photograph of my mother and not-my-father in evening dress gazing into each other's eyes - what the camera saw, and the starting point of this body of work.