That Which We Have Held

There's a mass of humanity that is turned under every generation, forgotten in boxes that litter the aisles of antique malls, and estate sales, and auctions. The last members of their families have passed, or aren't around, or are cleaning out their attics. The images that they have left behind, the traces that they were here, remain.

I didn't make these images, time did. I don't know what that makes me, besides a finder. I am not nearly as interested in a discussion of appropriation, Postmodernism, or originality as I am in letting you see them, too.