In many ways, a photograph and a diamond are closer than one may think. This relationship, this complicity of commemoration, is what makes the images in this book so moving, so alarming, so touching. This book accompanies this metamorphosis of commemoration. We see photos from the past, we see memories that have become diamonds, and we see the relationships of the bereaved to this crystalline form of commemoration. We see the eternal next to the ephemeral. We see the laborious battle against the memory-crushing work of everyday life, the quiet triumphs when transience is fooled, but also the idiosyncratic stasis of a life that perhaps depends a little too much on yesterday. We see the work of memory in practice - and this book is itself a part of this work. More even. Perhaps this book is the resting place that these diamonds need. After all, you can close it. And it is ephemeral. The pages will turn yellow, they will wither, this book will also become part of the great cycle of nature. With this book, the memories that have become immortal in the diamonds will also pass. At least symbolically. Only the memory diamonds themselves will continue to exist forever.