A vacant paper deer head is looking at me. Staring down. For all I know, it is staring through me. But we are focussed on one’s self these days so it is staring at me for all purposes of the gist I am going with. I was just looking through my photos from past and present in the shoeboxes we all store things in. Looking for a new set to place in frames, rotating those clicks in time where I either look my best or a moment that brought the best out in me or those around me. Otherwise its simply a great shot of my pet chicken in 1995. And every time I do this, I have the opportunity to leave some photos behind or shuffle them up even more so. It really becomes like the mind, no real chronological order. But more that snap or… that memory.