.jpg)
Today I messed up a roll of film.
I bought a cheap lomography camera, a bunch of 35mm film, and got excited. It's been a long time since I've really done any film photography and I liked the idea of a camera I can't really control and shots that can surprise me.
But after only 11 shots I heard a familiar crunch, the noise of something internal not doing its job properly, and though I tried to wind up the film I had to save the shots, I failed.
And each time this happens, I find myself mourning the shots I haven't got.
You see, I am a memory hoarder. That is why I write poetry, blog posts, winding prose about events in my life, it's why I take photos and print them out, why I save conversations on word documents, why I have notebooks to jot down moments and why I spent £10 on the "official" sailing society photo when I could have saved the photo online.
I try really hard to hold onto moments. I love having things saved up that I can rifle through when I'm bored or sad or lonely. Cleaning my room at home takes years because I hoard every little thing I find that reminds me of something that I once did or saw or felt.
I am getting slightly better at letting go.
I did a purge of my room last Easter and binned lots of things I would have normally kept; train tickets, leaflets from attractions, receipts from meals out.
But I still find myself pinning things down and making sure they don't get away.
And I miss the things I've lost. I had some silly shots of my housemate on this roll of film, a picture of Adam grinning in his room and one of him spinning round slowly with a stern face. I had a shot of a flock of birds.
So I thought I'd hoard these shots through words instead, I thought I'd write them into a blog post.
Then load a new roll of 35mm film, and pray for a better outcome.
