Fading Memories
and Unfamiliar Faces

The old family albums are in pretty rough shape. The mangled wire coils and disjointed pages are evident. And I'm partly to blame. I've been obsessed with these albums since I was a child.

I don't know what it is. Generally speaking, it's the faces of loved ones and looking back at moments someone cared enough to capture. But there's also an innate curiosity. Who are these other people I've never met? 

The albums are home to faces both familiar and unfamiliar – faces like Leon's. And although I may never know who they are, I aim not to forget them.

Her memory is fading, but I still ask my mother questions about her past and these strangers. Some of it she can tell me about, and some of it she can't. 

I feel obligated to let these people out of their time capsules, whether purely for the aesthetic or to breathe life into them through a fictional narrative. It feels necessary to let the images live.
 

Until next time, Friend.