As we age, childhood photographs of ourselves take on a mysterious quality. Who is this tiny creature, usually flanked by adults, gazing seriously out at the camera? Is there anything left of her? And what of these adults – young and in their prime, full of hopes for the future – but now long dead or grown old? Uniting different generations in a single image, I was struck by family likenesses – an expression or pose from a past age would suddenly be glimpsed a few generations on. But the photographs cannot bring back the past – the figures they portray are frozen in time, doomed for ever to repeat a perpetual cycle of poses like mechanical ghosts.