Imagine an attic of an old mental asylum, filled with the trunks and suitcases of the now-deceased patients. Then imagine that the suitcases are found and the contents are documented to tell the stories of their former owners. Amazing stuff.
My favorite story is Madeline’s.
suitcase
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Sad stories–it’s hard to get over the sense that these were wasted lives. But then I wonder how much their stories are metaphors for our own. How much choice do we have over the chance happenings of our own lives?