Like the man sang, "It's never over". More than an 80's-lyric, though, while function is transient, what form's us, eternal. And gift-able. Singer/writer Ingrid Michaelson tiles the walls of both her home and her art with love and legacies that neither date, nor diminish. What transports her is the photo of the photo; the time of the time. Perhaps, in a world where the future is far less sexy, and less inconceivable, than ever, what's past is Epilogue. All those moments not lost in time. Rather held. Imperishable.

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