shashasha

I discovered several dozen polaroid photos the other day that I had totally forgotten about, in the lowermost drawer of my locker at my workplace. They are images that I was assigned to shoot some years back, and that were put away once they had served their purpose. And now, all of a sudden, they were excavated and once again exposed to the sunlight.
Having turned into undefined fragmentary images in pale, indistinct shades of sepia, the photographs stunned me as I looked at them. Over the enormous time that had passed, they had degenerated more and more, and what remained were mere ruins of images, faint traces of a “time” that was already separated from the person who shot these photographs. They had transformed into something that was in another dimension altogether, and that seemed to be shouting out at me: “Look at us, and know all the candid details!”
What is to see there are perhaps tokens of the immeasurable time that connects all human beings, and of the way we direct our “memory of the retina” toward the sky.