According to some popular accounts, all the material in any living human body is completely replaced about every seven years, right down to quantum particles. Nothing stays the same.

What, then, constitutes a person?

I look back on the person I was in the period these pictures were made, from 1988 to 1998, and it's almost as if I'm looking into the life of someone else. I know this person very well, and am sympathetic to him. But it's as if he's not quite me. Would he listen to me if I could speak with him?

In a way, I’ve been listening to him through the messages he put into these photographs, decades ago, and replying by shaping them into this present form.

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Witnesses: September 11, 2001

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1987