You'll never know what this story has to do with this picture and neither will I
I once decided to write on a discarded Polaroid dark slide "There is no love, that it what God taught us, the most important lesson". I could go into why I decided to write that but it's not instrumental to the story. What is much more important, is that I am a dyslexic and my mind doesn't fully co-operate with my brain so instead of writing the aforementioned sentiment, I wrote "There is love, that is what God taught us, the most important lesson" and then promptly discarded the dark slide after realising I couldn't squeeze the "not" in without making a terrible mess.
Some time later, many, many months, I stayed at my grandparents house and was looking for some socks in the corner of a draw I appropriated for emergency underwear, (because it's the one thing I always forget to pack) when I came across the dark slide tucked away. I've no idea how it travelled the 23 miles from my house to theirs but it probably didn't make the journey by itself. A much more reasonable explanation is that my grandmother, who likes to tidy my room, even though I'm in my twenties and should take care of my own shit and squalor, must have saved it from the piles of rubbish that litter my floor.
It's my secret hope that it filled her with some kind of joy, for a short time at least, while she contemplated the idea of me having found God. Although I'm pretty sure the next time she saw me she would have been stripped of this illusion, as I am a wholly ungodly, heathen type creature. It is also my fantasy that she keeps it in the draw to remind herself that I'm not an entire disappointment and sometimes I can be quite lovely, and it's for this reason, that I never told her what I meant to write in case I break her catholic heart.