I must tell you, it is very tiring to be a symbol. Good symbol or bad, it is tiring all the same. From the moment of her birth, Kaja and I had no choice in this matter, but Lillian and Samantha became a symbol only because Nina turned them into one.

JOURNAL ENTRY, MAY 1963: When I showed Nina our photos later that night, it was as a friend. I wasn’t thinking of the Lacuna show. Not because I considered our photos any less important or serious: if anything, I take them more seriously because they belong only to us! Nina, however, can be quite convincing. Though she was passionate on the importance of showing women and girls through female eyes, I was more persuaded by the look that crossed her face before she said a single word.

I put the question to you as neutrally as I could. You’re young, but being eight is not like being a baby, as you often remind me, and you’re certainly at an age where you can hold and defend your own opinions. When I told you that Nina was interested in showing our photos, your face lit up. “Does that mean I get to be in the show?” you asked, and clapped your hands. Only if you want to be, I explained, which made you laugh. “Why wouldn’t I?” you asked. Well, I said, for one thing, it would mean people seeing pictures of you naked. “Mama,” you said, rolling your eyes, “I’m only a little girl.”

62. Exhibition announcement, “Brooklyn Lives, Photographs by Lillian Preston, Lacuna Gallery,” 1963, with reproduction of Diner

The day after second grade ended, Lillian and I took the subway to Grand Central, where we boarded the Cleveland Limited, an overnight train ride that was the most exciting experience of my eight-year-old life. My seat reclined. There was a car filled with couches and round tables, and a car that was a restaurant, and a car with doors that opened onto little cabins with bunk beds inside. For as long as it was light out, I looked through the window at all the trees and rivers and bridges and houses and roads and cars, a world that, for me, had only technically existed until that moment. I waved maniacally at every kid in every backyard I passed, and some of them waved back. When it got too dark to see out, I played Go Fish with Lillian until way past my bedtime, the rocking rhythm of the rails making it feel like everything was exactly as it was meant to be.