The Thrift Store Series
One day I was shopping at a thrift store. I had never looked at other people's old photographs before, but this day I did and one in particular caught my eye. A woman and a man descending a staircase in, presumably, their home. I was so intrigued (who? why? where?) that I bought the old fashioned, square formatted black and white photo. As I looked deeper and explored my thoughts and feelings more, I began to realize that one day, my family photos, that mean so much to me, will one day mean very little to anyone else. I will die and leave behind family photos that become fodder for another thrift store. That we all die, that what we hold as our precious memories are only that...ideas, thoughts, memories, sensations. They will pass with us and we will all, at least metaphorically, end up as unknowns in a thrift store. In addition to the other images here that I found in thrift stores, I added one of myself, my mother and my sister, because we will end up in the same place.
One day I was shopping at a thrift store. I had never looked at other people's old photographs before, but this day I did and one in particular caught my eye. A woman and a man descending a staircase in, presumably, their home. I was so intrigued (who? why? where?) that I bought the old fashioned, square formatted black and white photo. As I looked deeper and explored my thoughts and feelings more, I began to realize that one day, my family photos, that mean so much to me, will one day mean very little to anyone else. I will die and leave behind family photos that become fodder for another thrift store. That we all die, that what we hold as our precious memories are only that...ideas, thoughts, memories, sensations. They will pass with us and we will all, at least metaphorically, end up as unknowns in a thrift store. In addition to the other images here that I found in thrift stores, I added one of myself, my mother and my sister, because we will end up in the same place.