There's something interesting about the objects we didn't throw away.

Not necessarily the valuable things, or the things we deliberately collected. I'm thinking about the completely ordinary stuff that somehow survived the various clear-outs, house moves and attempts to make our lives a little less cluttered.

An old software box in a cupboard. A stack of floppy disks. A game manual that's been separated from the game it came with. A CD-ROM you haven't put into a computer in twenty years. A cable for a device you no longer own.

At some point, you stopped using these things. But you didn't quite get around to throwing them away.

Because somewhere along the way they stopped being technology - they became evidence.

Evidence of a computer you used to have. A bedroom you used to sit in. A game you played after school. A project you were working on. A person who was part of your life. A version of yourself that doesn't exist anymore.

That's something I've been thinking about while making Season Two of Artifacts.

The older I get, the more I realize that nostalgia isn't really about wanting things back. I don't particularly want my old computer back. I don't want dial-up. I'm perfectly happy never having to wait for a three-megabyte download again, and I certainly don't miss hunting through a drawer for a lost software product key.

What I miss is who I was when those things were part of my life.

That's why finding an old object can be so powerful. You don't just recognize it - you recognize yourself.

And maybe that's why we keep things long after they've stopped being useful. We tell ourselves we'll deal with that cupboard eventually, or sort through those old discs, or finally throw away that box. But perhaps we're not quite ready.

Because getting rid of the object can feel a little bit like getting rid of the memory attached to it.

Of course, that's not really how memory works. The thing isn't the memory - it just happens to be a remarkably good key for unlocking it.

And, for me, that's what makes these old artifacts so fascinating. They were designed to do something specific: a modem connected you to the internet, a CD stored music, a software disc installed a program, a game cartridge let you play.

But years later, they've acquired another purpose entirely.

They take us somewhere.

What's the most useless piece of old technology you still can't bring yourself to throw away?

Not the thing that's worth money. The thing that has absolutely no practical value anymore, but you'd still be a little sad to lose.

Hit reply and tell me why.

I'd genuinely love to hear the stories behind them. Those little memories are exactly the reason The Archive exists.