hypothesizer at work

It's not often that I get called back so specifically to topics already touched on, but the above photo has been playing in my mind since I posted it a couple of days ago. It kicks my story-maker and hypothesizer into high gear somehow. The photo says "gruesome" and "sad" in one small breath. It asks me if there is anyone in this world who has not been betrayed by the class s/he aspired to or longed to escape. I wonder -- assuming these girls are related -- who and what kind of mom they had/have.

And it makes me think of Kentucky or West Virginia or one of those Appalachian places back in the hills where inbreeding is never spoken but remains a fact. What is the difference between the British royal family and the Smiths and Joneses who care for a still and seldom ask for help because no one ever gave them any. "Sallow" was a word created for them. The pride -- or is it arrogance -- is written across the faces of those forced to bear an elegant or demeaning cross. And yet if cross is all you've known, is it any longer a cross? I'd say yes, judging by the eyes and the uprightness above and the multitude below ... and quiet nights that all may know.

Oh well ... just my story times.