Ten years of regrowth

Relics of the ashes to forever

They are the relics of the firestorm. Items plucked from the rubble of homes. Where a garden gnome could become as precious as a wedding ring because it survived and it was a link to another life, a little storehouse of memories. A pair of slippers are framed because, inexplicably, they were the only things that didn't burn, sitting, in all their surreal pink fluffiness, where the front steps used to be.