After that the work changed, though the work was the same.

We were still emptying a house, still wrapping plates and hauling boxes and deciding what a life comes down to, but we were doing it together now, which turned it from a demolition into something closer to a vigil.

The photographs took us three days, because we could not do them fast.

Every album was a landmine and a gift.

There we were, small, gap-toothed, sunburned, in decades of summers.