Corry Goelst en Wilhelmina van Zijll de Jong in een auto 1932

This black and white photograph captures Corry Goelst and Wilhelmina van Zijll de Jong in a car, taken by an anonymous photographer, sometime in the early 20th century. The image, with its grayscale palette, speaks to a time when photography was as much about documentation as it was about artistry. What strikes me is the texture and tone of the photograph. The starkness of the black and white, the way light reflects off the polished car, and the details in the women's clothing—it's all so immediate, so present. You can almost hear the rumble of the engine, imagine the wind tousling their hair. The photographer is playing with light and shadow to create depth, turning what could be a simple snapshot into a moment of connection. The whole thing has this amazing feeling of being caught in time, like a memory brought to life. Think about artists like Gerhard Richter, who played with similar themes of memory, photography, and painting. What we're left with isn't just an image, but a conversation about what it means to remember, to see, and to feel.