I occasionally have trouble with old photographs.
Trouble is the wrong word. Difficulty processing? Mistaken expectations? Like many people, I find it hard to look at an old photograph and remember that the people in it lived-felt-breathed in exactly the same way that I do.
Then, other times, I get the all-important paradigm shift, where I can do nothing but read and imagine lives for each person I see. Complex stories, emotions, wants and needs for each still image. Refreshing, worrisome.
The long and short of it? Insomnia is a predatory thing, and catches up with us at unexpected times. 3:28, I should be back in bed, but sleep is a bit hard to come by these days.