Fragments of Life

I think that there are few things more poignant than lost photographs. Lying in the street earlier, a stack of pictures, obviously dropped by a burglar or thief who had no use for them.
Seeing photos abandoned like that always tweaks my heart; they’re fragments of somebody’s life – possibly the only record they have of life’s happy moments, scattered and meaningless and of no value to anybody but the original owner.
It always strikes me as unutterably sad that these memories have been lost.