What do they say?

I take photos incessantly. Almost habitually.
I don't know why. Something inside makes me take them.
I think of it like fitting a puzzle piece into the place it belongs.
In my mind there are many such places and when a composition fits, sometimes I'll take a photo.
Looking back over old photos I try to remember the feeling I had when I took them. Perhaps I hope they will tell me something. Something about me that I could not otherwise know. Like keys to some locked room of secrets. Secrets that would make sense out of my life, perhaps sense out of life itself.

But maybe they are just snapshots.