It's like floating or flying moving through time. The various pieces of us come apart. We cease to exist as who we were as we become who we are. We come apart. Reach back through and there's only bits and pieces of something different altogether.
What's left is like a map of what is is like an image broken into bits is like an island.
In cat moment we pour we spill in fur when light after the dissolve of cell or island an ocean maps the camera's scene a cat a woman.

You were there then. I stood behind you and framed this image in the viewfinder.

Thirty years passed.

All the old negatives saved in a box that moved from cellar to attic the back of a closet.

I pulled them out of the box one by one.

I digitized the negatives. I manipulated images.

Prodded by pictures I've created memories.

I take the word of the image we were there.