"They are proof that something was there and no longer is. Like a stain. And the stillness of them is boggling. You can turn away but when you come back they'll still be there looking at you." - Diane Arbus, 1971
A box of photographs. Old friends, in another world. When brought out to view they become cruel windows, only allowing a fixed perspective, a moment in time, a lie. What was life is reduced to a shadow. What meaning it had has now been changed, eroded and reshaped by the river of time. Personal history counts for little, it is an emotional commodity. But the potential connection will always be there, for we are creatures of curiosity, from prehistory to the present, trying to try to find a meaning in a picture.