As I am getting older, I am more and more enjoying a sweet melancholy about the past. Of course, I have memories of the events of my own life, but I also have memories of my earlier reflections of times before me. I remember my youthful fascination with the late nineteenth and most of the twentieth century. Now my thoughts of the distant past are layered with these earlier feelings. Thus, my sense of the present reverberates with my love for the time I lived and an earlier vanished world I could only know second-hand. I feel like a traveler, handling other people’s moments, and cherishing what other people who have long since passed away once cherished. The feeling is a wistful pang of longing; it is an exquisite teasing sensation of brushing close to something just beyond one’s grasp. It is this subtle sentiment that drew forth these images. I hope you enjoy them.