Raven & DiscArchivist
Hey Raven, I just found a box of 1960s Polaroids in the attic—each one feels like a tiny, stubborn memory that refuses to fade. What do you think about the way old photos keep us anchored to moments we might otherwise lose?
Those Polaroids feel like stubborn ghosts, tiny anchors that refuse to dissolve, each one holding a slice of time in place and reminding us that memories are the only things that can outlast the dust.