What an amazing post from Callalillie and Alexi. They found photographs, a pay stub, and other memorabelia belonging to a Red Hook shipyard worker from 1981 that was lying on the street

We collected everything that we could carry. We returned home,
stinking of photographic chemicals, and drew a warm bath in the kitchen
sink. Slowly, we eased the negatives into the water, carefully peeling
those that had stuck together, rinsing them gently. You were an avid
hunter. You built a house. You wife looked quite lovely.

Based on the artifacts we collected, it was easy to deduce who you
were. We learned quickly where your house was, what army base you might
have worked near, your wife’s name, and when you passed away. A quick
check on your pay stub revealed your profession, clearly connecting you
to the old shipyard, which is exactly where we found your pieces.

Beard Street was silent. The wind and rain were working themselves
up against the twilight. In a matter of hours, you would have
dissipated into the night—the negatives staining beyond recognition,
your address fading, the evidence of your existence erased. I wonder if
we would have found you had we come the next morning, staring up at the
shipyard, looking for changes, just peering down once to inspect the
buckshot.

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