I NTIMACIES, bodies, detritus. Naturally, the detritus comes after: the last word, the lasting impression, the legacy of empire-the wreckage, the leftovers, the scraps and scars that forever serve as reminders. There are other ways bodies are intimate, and so there are other remnants. The Chinese scalp preserved in South Africa (Rachel Bright); a French bawdy cartoon, torn and yellowed from a newspaper in Hanoi (Michael Vann); faded dossiers from the not-quite colonial archives of Lebanon (John Boonstra) and El Salvador (Aldo Garcia-Guevara); containers of foreclosed intimacies and barely suppressed violence. More often the colonial archive is stained with traces of terrible violence: women enduring sexual slavery in the Straits Settlements of the nineteenth century (Shawna Herzog) or in postwar Japan over one hundred years later (Robert Kramm), giving the lie to the narrative of global progress. But detritus may be benign, even beautiful: a nutritious recipe from Nigeria (Lacey Sparks); a silver buckle from Malaya (Matthew Schauer). After all, some colonial actors meant well, and of course colonial subjects weren't merely subjects. Model Japanese homemakers in Brazil weren't really colonizers (Sidney Lu) and Indians after the Raj weren't exactly white supremacists even though they censured interracial intimacies (Timothy Nicholson).In each morsel of detritus resides a clue, a piece of a life, or rather intersecting lives, lives which can never really be known by a * I wish to thank Judith P. Zinsser for inspiring me to undertake this ambitious project. I thank her, along with Kerry Ward, John Boonstra, Steven Gerontakis, and Aldo Garcia-Guevara for constructive criticism as this essay evolved. I am also incredibly grateful to the editors and staff at JWH who worked very hard to bring this double issue to fruition, and to the peer reviewers, without which this special issue would have been impossible: Trevor Getz and Heather Streets-Salter.