Any image – whether static or moving – captured for posterity of some more or less prosaic family activity has thermal memory. As if they were the embers of a past that never quite goes out, photos of loved ones in a physical album or in the mobile's image and video gallery retain an intangible but undeniable charm and warmth. Looking at them is like finding some of those little things Serrat sang about in his song: they make us cry when no one sees us.