I remember as a very young child that all ladies wore hats with dotted veils and white gloves to church. Now, it’s such a grey area; obscured from memory and plain sight.

A smooth, fresh, laughing face, the sleek angularity of a new building, a dotted veil worn by a woman coming out of church. Years later when the young face is wrinkled and the modern building looks corny and nobody wears veils anymore these photographs tell a story. And who could have guessed what that story would be? The melancholy of time inheres in photographs, in the resemblance that no longer resembles.
— John Rosenthal said that