I kept thinking about this one

Found a little photobooth frame at the 39th street and had to dig through hundreds of old snapshots to find her but she was worth it. Stories after stories after stories. So many stories. Ther are lost people who need to be seen.

This is what I think:

She was an extraordinary speller and favored the scent of wild violets and coffee.

She kept her valuables in a red shoebox beneath the bathroom sink, just behind a stack of mismatched towels.

She had a goldfish named ching ching whom she confided in regularly. Though only after she was sure everyone had already gone to bed.

That's what I think. But that could change at any moment. Because that's what it is with found photographs. Their details are spectacularly mercurial and their stories are as wide open as the sky.