Okay, a bit dramatic. But old photos call out to me. They capture a moment of time so clearly. And yet, we no longer know who they were. Why it was an important time of their life. What they did with their life. Who they loved. It only takes a generation or two to be lost and forgotten.
I feel like a late-on-the-scene caretaker. I won't ever know who they were. But I can respect that they were important in their lifetime. That this photo was a piece of who they were.
Sometimes I display these newly "adopted" family members. My ornate staircase is lined with them. Sometimes I pass them on to others. I get a weird satisfaction with being able to connect a vintage item to someone who will respect and treasure it.
These all came from last Saturdays auction.
I hope to help them find good homes.