'You can't burn photographs!' he bellowed, striding boldly into the dining room as if she were a tenant in his house. Clair wanted to explain her reasons but he had already passed by her in a whisk of cold air and was standing over the table looking at the lines of images laid out for incineration. She followed him, rather perturbed by his over-emotional response. She was, however, used to her own way of things inside her own house and reached over the grate striking another match.... This novella came about after studying photography, a process which challenged my thinking about photographs, what they are for, and what we do with them. Photographs seem to hold almost spiritual or magical essences for many of us. Would you, could you, burn or tear up a photograph?