It’s just old black-and-whites,′ she had said, flicking her wrist in the way one might dismiss a pile of junk mail. ‘Relatives nobody remembers.’ ‘No,’ I said, running to the box. ‘Don’t throw them out. I’ll keep them.’ I may not have known the names of the majority of the ancestors pictured inside, but it felt like a betrayal to send their memories to the landfill. I couldn’t bear the thought.