There are some family photos, though, that escape that binary. One that sits on my desk and that I look at almost every day is of me and my brother, probably aged six and 13. We are perched on the lurid bedspread of my grandparents’ spare room in Hounslow, smiling from either side of a bootleg calendar image of supermodel Cindy Crawford. It’s as 90s and absurd as it sounds – I have no recollection of the calendar or why we had a picture taken with it and it doesn’t particularly look like I knew what was going on then either. But sense-making isn’t the point of the photo.