Is it weird that I find looking at my own photographs calming? They’re a little picture of my day – the fun things I’ve found, the places I’ve been and the stories in my head that surround them. I remember how I found them, how many times I’ve been back, what the weather was like, where I stood… how I looked and saw what was in front of me. Seems like a lot to take from one photo (and there are so many of them!!), but I can tell you about the majority of them! I figure the ones I’ve forgotten (which are few and far between… I keep wondering how long I’ll remember for) clearly aren’t as important as the others.
