Bleach Headaches.

My mind is just buzzing right now. More so because of all the bleach I inhaled this morning. I went into the condemned building across the street, stole some stuff and some pictures. It was so... It was beautiful. Everything in the world will eventually end up like that, decaying, torn apart, furniture cast aside and ceilings caving in under the weight of their years. Everything in there was not so old, but it was all very much full of artifacts of people's lives. Its all been locked up since 2007, but they are just now going through and gutting it. If it was locked up for ten more years, even five, it would all seem so much like pieces of ancient history.

It makes me think about all my things. All my photographs. In a few years, even now for some of my images, I can look back at them as a history of my life. Instead of memoirs, my face is ingrained in a hard drive. My friends, people I know, places I've been, they're all logged and filed, gathering dust, waiting to be rediscovered, maybe deleted. What is a life without that repeated rediscovery?

I'm gathering all these images, so someday, someone will look back through them and recreate my life, just as I did when I snuck into attics and basements of relatives houses and rumaged through their boxes. Just like me when I poured over books gathered over the years and wondered who's tastes brought these titles togther.

Someday I'll be a condemned building, and someone will go through my stuff and make it part of their own life and memory.