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Sometimes a photo can uncover stark truths and even more startling fictions. On the other hand, a photograph can incite a kaleidoscopic collage of memory with visions and realities traveling desperately through your mind before breaking like a bubble hitting the surface of water and only momentarily grasped.

Sometimes when I look at a photograph, I see things as they were and, often, are. It’s in these moments that the memories are focused into the clarity and sharpness of a winter air that excoriates you slightly as you inhale. On the other hand, much of the time when I look at a photograph, I still see things as I want them to be.

From Mute Math:

I see our fate, I see our past
And all the things that could not last
It’s heavy on these eyes, frozen as I hold this photograph
It’s all we’re left that’s of any worth
And it’s so much more than a thousand words
Now in this frame is our only way we can endure

I pictured you and me always
And in this photograph we’re safe