They’ve held my attention for years, these photos and many others like it. These images were my father’s. These shots in particular were, most likely, not the select images (the images that would go in his projector that he would show his family and friends) but images he kept in a box in the attic. When I was young I would sneak a peak into this box and try to figure out where a photo was taken or how long ago.
No matter the quality, all of us have these images, images we hang onto. Out of focus, ripped, damaged from coffee spills or mold in the basement. We wont let them go for just the thought of these images conjure a simpler time or wipe the dust from a memory almost forgotten, that can be enjoyed for a moment once again.