Accidental finding of several old photographs of a desolate beach or a causeway 

This is when he got hold of these photos. By chance—without merit. At first sight, they seemed simply unimportant, perhaps unsuccessful, blurred, as in old newspapers. It was maybe their grain, their odd (or random) framing, underexposed blandness— it was hard to say what they showed, and especially what for. Vacuous, strangely nostalgic, and mundane in their redundant photographic immortalisation of nothing. Total silence, desolate beaches or piers, a stain or a cloud’s shadow on film—it was not important. 

Not important. And there in the distance, perhaps a tree or a human figure, blurred on the surface of the eye in the intimacy, about which not a word even to yourself. 

Francis A. Sleighryde, Erring towards Esanezina (fragment)