And what do these flashwraiths do with all these images anyway? The whole process seems to be more about creating a sense of self ( I flash, therefore I am ) than anything else. Same thing with all those tourists and their video cameras. What happens to these millions of images of museum objects and streetscenes?
You pose an interesting question. Do you remember that artwork that was at the AGO maybe more than a decade ago? It was a robot, that one by one picked up hard-copy photographs of everyday scenes (graduations, parties in basements, blurry shots of houses), moved them so as to display them to a viewer for a moment or so, and then promptly dropped them into a shredder. The pieces ran up a conveyor belt and formed an ever-increasing pile at the base of them. The kicker was, there was a sensor that the viewer could activate with their hand, and if you held your hand over it, the photo would not be shredded, but would be placed gently into an acid-free archival box instead. But the default was shredding.
The description accompanying the artwork indicated that no known negatives existed for any of the photos.
Needless to say, as an archivist (which I was at the time, a real one) I would stand and watch the photos being shredded, not saving a one. In some ways, it was quite melancholy, though, since these were all "moments" that were disappearing. They must have meant something to someone, sometime.
Of course, with digital, the number of photos taken rises exponentially. They are of no permanent value, of course, and will pretty much all disappear within a few years, even if they seem to be sloshing around cyberspace quite a bit for a while.