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.