I can't help but feel a strange sadness as I look at the images in the link below. As if the vastness of our universe isn't enough, even the troubled but fleeting lives of those who lived before us-- gone in the blink of an eye, captured only in these beautiful snapshots and in the memories of family members-- stand to make me feel all the more small and insignificant. How could I ever understand their struggle? Does the weight of my life and of my accomplishments even compare? And can I ever experience real joy, not truly wanting for anything in my short existence?

There are no clear answers to these questions, and I'm pretty sure the trick is to just be fine with that.


African-American Snapshots & Portraits