If you're like me, you take lots of photos. Photos of that delicious meal you had to capture before allowing yourself to dig in, that beautiful sunset from your dorm's window, those many "night out" photos that might be better off deleted but keeping them is funnier. In the age we live in, photos are everywhere. I bet if someone told our grandparents years ago that one day the world would be full of people taking "selfies" with portable, sophisticated little computers, they'd think it impossible. Yet here we are, and photos, thanks to smartphones and expensive cameras alike, are ever prominent in our society.
Photos can be beautiful or ugly, full of life or quiet, pleasant or shocking. Something I've noticed, though, is that certain photos downright stand out to us as special.
Maybe it's a fond memory, maybe it's a family vacation, or a wedding, or a particular sunrise. Maybe it's the way she looked that night, or the way he looked that night. A photo can hold magnificent power in that it can take us on a journey, back to that time or place that we hold so dearly in our hearts.
The other day I was stalking my own Instagram feed (I like to reflect, ok?!) when I noticed one image that popped out at me-- a rosy pink sky painted the bustling Roman street, a photo op I, as an avid 'grammer, couldn't resist. At the time, I took that photo because it was simply pretty. Looking at it again months after my stay abroad, I realized how personal a photo it actually is.
I saw the obvious, what was framed in the photo: the cobblestone street, the clamor of cars, the people walking. But I realized I could see beyond that as well. Just outside the photo's left-hand corner I could imagine the route I used to take whenever I was running late to meet my friends at that one metro stop, and the gelato place with the twinkling lights I'd pass. Where the photo "ends" on the right, I could see the intricate mural of a man on a building I'd pass on the streets I would walk and the cafe I would stop to sip coffee as I chose people-watching over theology homework.
None of that was in the photo. But I could see it, feel it even, nonetheless.
Human memory is a funny phenomenon. Anything could trigger memories, but I'm a firm believer in that photos are something like time capsules. There's a reason we keep photos around, of loved ones, of beautiful sights, of fond memories. Photos are vehicles with maps to our past-- and I feel lucky to have such a lovely collection.
