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They told stories in fragments. The shop was a kind of archive too — private and intentional — storing not only images but the moments their subjects couldn't bear to keep themselves. People came with secrets too heavy for memory; they left with a photograph and the permission to forget. The photographs, they said, took a weight from the bearer and held it like an onion holds its layers: translucent, separate, whole. But there was a rule: you could not keep one of these photographs unless you gave one in return.

"No names," the note said.