Memories

I've been doing a lot of thinking recently about childhood and memories, my own in particular, of people past and present in my life. I guess this comes from a notion of my own existence, my life, my death, my morality. I'm heading home for a few days next week and have had it on my mind to go through some old photos that are hidden away somewhere in the attic, not seen but not discarded. Images that are redundant, they are not on display but are cherished when found and looked at.
I'm reading a book at the moment called Picturing Childhood: The myth of the child in popular imagery by Patricia Holland. "Family pictures are a part of the ritual of family life and contrbute to a sense of continuity and personal identity. They are collected and preserved to revive warm memories about a past that is part reality, part fantasy."
I can relate to this so much as I have a longing to reconnect with my childhood home and family, a place I haven't been back to in 18 months. I've been trying to jump start my own memories by documenting them in an attempt perhaps to regain my own identity.