"Isak Dinesen said that she wrote a little every day, without hope and without despair. I like that."

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One has the impression that something is stirring inside [photographs] - it is as if one can hear little cries of despair, gémissements de désespoir... as if the photographs themselves had a memory and were remembering us and how we, the surviving, and those who preceded us, once were.

— W. G. Sebald