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The task of busting Nathan out of boot camp proves to be a lot harder than the boys expect. Not only is there the problem of extricating their friend from the privately run facility for delinquent youth, but even if they succeed, what do they do once Nathan is free? The bigger question, however, is why Nathan was sent to boot camp in the first place. He did a good thing in the eyes of many, yet his actions embarrass his parents. I was working with what I had.

And I wanted to learn the pieces that my mother played.

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As she floated by, she stopped to show me how to do a trill, starting from the higher note. Another time, she explained the sideways v-lines that meant louder or softer and pointed out how the tiny numbers over the notes told you which fingers made the most sense. I tried that, jumping from thumb to pinky over and over until it almost sounded like I was hitting both notes at the same time.

Still, I was furious. I kept it to myself, not wanting to upset her. She had a very hard disease, so they said, and none of us wanted her to disappear back into that hospital. None of us wanted to watch her dark eyes turn into whirlpools or to cover our ears as she told the neighbors that the Nazis were coming to kill us or that the surgeons were putting on their disguises and sharpening their knives. So I put the record on again and listened to Horowitz three more times. It was just too fast for me to figure out what he was doing.

We had a reel-to-reel tape recorder that my father used to record his practices for the L. Opera, where he sang the tenor parts. When you leaned over the reel-to-reel to stare at the buttons, your hand on the rough case, you would catch whiffs of dust and glue wafting up from the delicate, slithery tape. One day my father had showed me how to use it. He sang his heart out to his lover Mimi as she died of consumption in her cold attic room. NOW he gestured again as his last note faded off into nothingness, and I pushed Stop.

I set up the machine to record my own piano playing. I had to push the Record buttons and then run to the piano bench. I tried not to scrape the bench legs against the wood floor as I sat down. I played the piece, but kept messing it up. June passed through and cocked her head at me like some kind of detective.

Except that with her scrunched-up brow and plaid dress, she looked more like Gretl from The Sound of Music.

Jacques Cormier (Editor of Les Illustres Françaises)

Once I got through the piece, I played it back again and again, listening closely to hear what I was doing wrong. But that one section, the triplets against eighth notes, was impossible. As soon as I started the triplets with my right hand, my left hand started trying to match what its twin was doing, until it lost the rhythm altogether.

It was all mixed up. Despite my frustrations, I discovered a couple of things. I also learned that a piece of music has different parts, the friendly parts that welcome you and carry you along, and the evil, cruel ones that hammer at you, and the dull parts that bore you and make you want to stop. Sometimes, you do stop.

The Mirror of Worlds

You lift your hands from the keyboard for the briefest of moments, than catapult ahead to the climax of the story, or to the sad interlude—the mournful, lovely melody that to you is the center of the piece, the whole reason you took Horowitz out of the sleeve and played that section over and over in the hopes that it could become yours.

Mary Elene Wood lives in Oregon with her partner Grace, teenage daughter, two dogs, and four cats. Between and , Castellano spent six months in Iraq photographing the conflict against the Islamic State. During that time he visited Ankawa 2, a camp for internally displaced people run by the Assyrian Catholic Church in the city of Erbil in Kurdistan, an autonomous region in northern Iraq.

We spoke with Castellano about the genesis of the project, his main takeaways and the images of the Middle East in mainstream media outlets. He plans to emigrate to Australia with his family.

His business in the camp is not profitable, but it is a nice way for him to interact with other people. Back in Qaraqosh, he used to work in an aluminum factory. He opened this shop to pass the time. His family owned similar shops in Baghdad. In Qaraqosh, Benjamen worked at a diesel generator plant. In Qaraqosh, his father used to work as a driver. The idea came from a conversation with my girlfriend, who used to be a photo editor at the Brazilian edition of National Geographic. She joined me in Iraq after I had been there covering the conflict for two months. At the time she arrived, a colleague and I were working on a story about Christians in Iraq, and the three of us spent Christmas Eve in Anakawa 2, the Christians-displaced camp in Erbil.

When she saw the shops inside the camp, she told me that [it] was a story worth photographing. But I was more interested in documenting the frontline — as this had been one of my dreams since I began shooting. Also, I wanted to try something different from what I used to do in Brazil, which was mostly portraits. Eventually, I did some tests one afternoon and was excited with the possibility of depicting a particular side of the war no one else was talking much about.

Beyond profits, what do you think that shop owners gain from this opportunity to sell their products? In the interviews, most of them said the businesses were more a way of spending the time than of making a lot of money. I believe their biggest gain is the feeling that life is going on.

[TXT - Cat & Dog] dance practice mirrored

I see the shops as a way they found to try to bring normality back to their lives. These people lost everything they had. Having an activity is one attempt to begin rebuilding their lives from zero, and also to set an example for the community. How would characterize the relationship between the families living in the camps and the surrounding Christian neighborhood? More specifically, what role, if any, do the shops play in facilitating integration?

Contrary to other camps in the Nineveh region, this is open, so people can come and go out freely, which helps integrate. Some of the barbers mentioned they had occasional customers from outside the camp, but the same does not apply to other businesses, as the shops inside are a small version of what you find outside.

By Jeffrey O. Grady - Jeffrey O. Grady

Some families have split; part lives in the camp, part outside, in the Christian neighborhood of Ankawa. It depends on the economic situation — if the family has some money they can afford paying rents outside. But all of them are suffering because they had to abandon their hometown and left everything behind.

In this project, the colors of the storefronts create a striking contrast with the grey backdrop. Was this an intentional stylistic choice?

The colors in my photographs have come to define my style, but they are not always intentional. In fact, they are a consequence of the use I make of flash. So, the colors came out more vibrant. So, I had to photograph them at the end of the day, so my flash could be more distant from the owners, making the skyline gray. But what really drives my work are the people I am photographing; I adapt my technique and my photograph to each case.

Did you learn anything new or see things differently after having done this project? Nobody asks me what their lives are like. What it taught me the most was that photography is a part of life. The camera, the photographer is just an instrument to capture the reality and the interactions you have with people, the relationship you have with others. I think that the [news] industry is corrupted.

The media, the outlets, they always want to show the same thing. They all want the blood, the action, the suffering. It was exhibited in a museum in Brazil. And it is art, but it is newsworthy, too.