As much as you wish you could jump Into that photograph and revel in the smells of the food your family cooked, whisper a warning to your great uncle about trying times to come, admonish your grandfather to drink a bit less to remember that Thanksgiving meal a bit better, sow the seeds of uncertainty for your father and mother that they could someday have grandchildren, or pull your grandma long passed into the now, the reality of photography is a fallacy, the moments captured lost to time along with the virility of the accompanying memories. The physical expanse that exists behind figures in those photographs is as true as what was captured in the flash. It’s attempting to know the far side of the moon, but before the compression and expansion of time and space made scientific reality accessible. It’s parabolic stories about reanimating the dead when truth about reassembly is lost and shouldn’t be attempted because “sometimes dead is better."