16 photographs taken by Davey – showing details of interior spaces, dust, spiders, tiles, a stuffed animal, a tree – have been folded, addressed, and mailed to the writer Lynne Tillman, and affixed with the following text: “Most people will divulge more than you want to know. / People often want to recite the tragic events that have deformed their lives / offering up their pasts as a series of tableaus of deceptions, / or unspeakable insults, / since people blame others endlessly, / and these assaults and imprecations clutter / like a dog’s defecations on the street, / their lives and stories. / What is said is often unremarkable, / though sometimes horrible, / but it’s still easy to feel the tiresomeness of another’s life, / as well as your own, / since interest in other people is also an interest in yourself, / because human beings are interested in themselves and in ways of survival. / All stories are somehow survival stories, / with bad or good for-tunes.” As in Davey’s previous mailed photographs, this work physically embodies a transmission from speaker to receiver as it passes through the postal system and then is collected and unfolded, a transmission which comes to represent the latency implicit in analog photography, the time between the exposure and the image’s development in the darkroom.