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the doppelgänger
Glancing
at the photographs above,
the viewer
cannot help but ask: what happened here? The tot with a snowball in his hand is, arguably, at least passably endearing; but his doppelgänger from the future –
what of him? Surely
this is not the same lad. What has become of the snow? The mock
turtleneck? The mock menace? Who is this usurper, this pretender, this simularcum? We don't know. We can't be sure. Hand
him a slice of cake and a paper crown and send him on his way. Remember
your Hamlet: Fear it, Ophelia.
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