A room filled with postcard stands, their tiny wire chambers packed full of black-and-white faces from the past. On each postcard is a single, female portrait. You flip the card over, curious to find out more about the face. On the back is a description, which tickles even more at your search to satisfy – why doesn’t it match the front? You leave the show contemplating how you look at the packaging of the people who walk by you, making you wonder about their true lives and not the ones you make up for them.