Collecting memories is a core activity at the mo. Rifling through stuffed drawers, surfaces and pulling together discs with school photos, tiny Hornby figures, school diaries, paperwork and printed photos. Thank fuck for hoarding. It’s all here. Somewhere.
Tonight I spent a few hours browsing through thousands of digital photos. In thumbnail mode.
Thumbnail life. Layered snapshots of family times. Of holidays, hanging out at home and family do’s.
The timings jar.
Was this really so long ago? It seems like yesterday. Did this happen straight after that? Before that? Really???
I take so many photos that thumbnail life is saturated. Edited, unedited, selected for greater things and barely looked at. Photos rarely deleted. Thumbnail life shows how LB just was. As everyone was. We all just were.
Except of course, LB wasn’t. Because he wasn’t allowed to be.
mydaftlife 
This made me cry. It’s very powerful.
I’ve been following your blog Sara. I don’t know you, and therefore have not commented previously…and I hope you will not mind me commenting now. Total respect to you… you are one courageous lady and my heart goes out to you. My daughter has severe learning disabilities and is 18. Words fail me- but I absolutely pray that you get justice for LB. Xx
Thank you Lisa. Not sure it’s courage, more distraction. Sara