Did I have a predisposition to be as disposable as the cameras I buy for more than their worth? They are as well just a casing with a roll of experiences entrapped in a hard body. The world isn’t meant to be exposed to it’s insides, and however curious I may be to see it’s contents before it’s finish, I know I’ll have to practice patience waiting for that final dark room. Only then will the images I took in this lifetime pass before my eyes with a clarity professionals must now explain to me. When my roll runs out, others will know where I’ve been and what I’ve done, and then perhaps my visual memoirs will gain accreditation, but for now, enclosed photos are my own safe keeping, and some will remain undeveloped.
The speed at which I’ve set my shudder has determined the quality of the images I retain, and for now I’ve learned to slow things down. Occasionally I’ll set my flash for snapshots, but it’s usually only at night when life becomes blurry and I have to rely on automatic focus due to manually incapability. No one has yet invented a zoom for those times that I wonder why things happened as they did and need a closer look, but I suppose that’s the fun in spontaneity. Experimentation still comes in settings I feel comfortable in, where I adjusted my EYEISO and opened the aperture of my mind so that I can see the light.
Others will have the option to color correct and retouch what the world sees of my life once I’m gone, but right now I prefer to keep things black and white, because overlaying any filter might obstruct the organics of each exposure.
I wished for a while that I could relive it all by holding tangibles of my memories if ever I forgot, but someone then told me “the disposable camera is in your mind, Kate.”
I then thought that with so little life to live, I hope I picked the right real reel.