Others' Memories

The New York streets are full of treasures.

Just about everyday, I'll make sure to leave my apartment and go for a walk—even if it's brief. Along my trek, I turn into a scavenger and search the ground for anything cool. I've found some interesting stuff over the years but what I really look for are letters and photographs.

One of the most meaningful things someone can do for me is write me a letter. I’ve kept every one I’ve ever received. They live in a binder with clear sleeves, so I can flip through them like a book whenever I want to revisit those moments.

And photographs—those matter deeply to me too. It makes sense, since photography is what I do for a living, but it’s more than just a job. I can remember details about a person or a day on my own, but the moment I see a photograph from that time, everything comes back. I can recount almost every detail.

In a non-morbid way, one day we’ll all be memories. And what remains of us will live in photographs, in words, and in the people who remember us.

With all of this in mind, over the past year I’ve become a kind of memory retriever. I’ve embarked on a journey to preserve the memories of others—gathering them and placing them into a book so they can continue to live on.

Here are a few that I've found in recent months:

I found this in a box of discarded books. The note was about grief, which felt strangely coincidental because that same morning, I was on my way to a funeral. I didn’t have time to see which book it came from, but I was able to grab the note before I left.

This one was just laying in the middle of my street. I found it in the summer and actually decided to go to the beach the next day because of it.

These were found at 3 separate times. Two wholesome notes and one that seems to be a cliff note of a book.

These were lying on the ground among a small pile of abandoned things in my neighborhood. I noticed the rollerblading girl immediately took her with me, leaving the boy behind. The next day, when I passed the same spot and saw the boy was still there, I brought him home too.

This one I found on a post rainy morning. They were smudged when I picked them but seem to be about a girl feeling guilt for not being loyal to her partner.

I can't remember where I found this one but I thought her grip on his arm looked a bit ravenous.

This was also found in a box of books and was on a day I felt I needed to hear it.