It once held someone’s summer in its lens.
Sunburned shoulders. Wind-tangled hair.
Proof that ordinary days were never really ordinary.
That powder-blue Brownie with the scuffed edges and stubborn little flash. I imagine someone holding it in 1962, squinting into the sun, capturing a moment they didn’t yet know would matter. I like to think photographs are just time saying, “Wait. This is worth keeping.”
It once held someone’s summer in its lens.
Sunburned shoulders. Wind-tangled hair.
Proof that ordinary days were never really ordinary.
That powder-blue Brownie with the scuffed edges and stubborn little flash. I imagine someone holding it in 1962, squinting into the sun, capturing a moment they didn’t yet know would matter. I like to think photographs are just time saying, “Wait. This is worth keeping.”
