I am completely alone in the archives these days all day long. Nothing but the whisper roar of the ventilation fan to keep me company. Sometimes as I sort and slip photos into sleeves, I find myself pausing to look at the author in the photo, and thinking it would be nice to visit her for tea. Then I’m more than a little shocked when I realize she died almost forty years ago. Such is the way of time in the archives. It moves so slowly sometimes you don’t even know it’s moving.
