I was always attracted not by some quantifiable, external beauty, but by something deep down, something absolute. Just as some people have a secret love for rainstorms, earthquakes, or blackouts, I liked that certain undefinable something.
So I decided to take out my pack of old photographs today, and went through them like I would every time it hit this time of the year. It wasn’t so much as to pick out the ones that I wanted to put up, than perhaps subconsciously see how much things have changed since then.
It was like meeting old friends, only they didn’t know that really, I smiled at them instead of the silence I carried in real life.
"How much would you like to go back to then?" He once asked. "Now? Not at all. Things are too different. But this is how much I miss it." There is a difference between missing something, and wanting it back.
But what I really came to say, was that I realised that while some smiles have faded and the dynamics portrayed in the photo no longer telling of the present, some things will never stop being important - like the cagers ending the 20 year drought back in 2008, and the snapshot that came a split second after that win.
I guess that’s the beauty in old photographs. When everything blurs into a distant past, a small detail like a crooked smile, or a gentle hand touching moment, or even a coordinated ‘let’s do something stupid’ moment, brings you back to that exact moment that it happened.
Maybe that’s what they meant by infinite moments. The moments that never do truly disappear.