Maybe because I'm faced with the imminence of aging more and more every day (as we all inevitably are), I've found some fascination with things from years ago. Library books that must be pulled from storage, stamped with years before I was alive. Photo envelopes that I discovered in my mom's closet on my visit back home... I'll scan some of those photos at some point. It's odd, I'm nearly looking another year of life in the face, wondering how it has passed so quickly. Will I hold the patina of yellowed paper and the nostalgia of the content inherent? Will I find a relic in my life as such?
