Journal Entry: Objects

The artifacts, the objects, became important to me because I needed to touch something, hold in my hand part of the life I thought maybe I had half imagined. But even with an object in my hands these lives remained half imagined. The lives themselves were always real, a matter of record, simple facts of history. But what these lives meant, what they might be beyond what they were was always…always a matter of imagination. I’ve taken some solace in the fact that many great discoveries were the result of imagination.

It doesn’t matter to me that the objects themselves don’t prove anything at all. I cling to them.


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