“… All of those thousands upon thousands of photographs (…) Each one a record, a testament, a bulwark against forgetting, against nothingness, against death.  Look, this happened.  A thing happened, and now it will never un – happen.  Here it is in a photograph: a baby putting its tiny hand in the wrinkled palm of an octogenarian.  A fox running across a woodland path and a man raising a gun to shoot it.  A plane crash. (…)  All these things happened, and my father committed them to a memory that wasn’t just his own, but the world’s.  My father’s life wasn’t about disappearance.  His was a life that worked against it.” Helen Macdonald in ,,H is for Hawak”