More files, more pictures, more memories. I suppose there is something to be said for the motto “out with the old in with the new” as it relates to life and also to the mementos and photographs that document our history. As I erratically jump from photograph folder to folder skipping decades and laying bare irregular layers of the visualized past, like an impatient or ill-trained archeologist, I find weddings of friends and siblings, pets that though loved are long gone, my grandparent’s gravestone photographed in winter and dusted with snow, wedding photographs of my parents, my mother in a sixties short white skirt and a parasol, uncles and aunts, and tiny children frozen in time who are now 6ft tall. I find houses lived in years ago and in forgotten corners of my mind, from behind closed doors, memories undisturbed for years emerge from the dust singing tales of ruptured threads of friendship visible in the weave of a life where the bonds have broken or come irretrievably knotted. Sometimes those threads are replaced by others, more often though they leave a gap that cannot be filled, a knot which cannot be unraveled, an ending and always, always a new beginning. And some of the threads have grown thicker and stronger and more deeply hued with time, interwoven with who we are and representing our truest friends, our closest family, a link from our past to our present and the future.
And though each night it sets – each morning it rises, the sun, glorious, anew