Spent an hour rummaging around in the loft yesterday. Came across a load of old slide photos. Some from trips to Devon, some from a trip with Will to Montserrat. There was a strange nostalgia to these found memories. It was like bringing back this little particular snippets from the past which had been erased from the more general memories of those times.

There was seomthing about the worn, battered quality to this particular image which resonated with this idea. Since having it back I have reremembered that whole day, which had otherwise been lost. Wandering along the beach, taking various photos for what was, at the time, an A-level art project.

I find memory a strange thing.