i remember the first time i saw a picture of my mother's bedroom when she was in college and it just stuck with me. she was so young, with early evening light shining in through the curtains, a childhood toy by her side, the couch that we had in our living room when i was little, never thinking that its history precedes me. to me, nothing existed before me. but that couch did, and the toy did and she did. and she wasn't always my mother; that picture made me realize it for the first time. she used to be a med student, hung out with friends, listened to music on this very radio that now resides in my own room. it still works. some of these vinyls belonged to her first. such a weird yet simple thought, and it's because of that that i love old things so much. even new things that evoke old truths - i like to think about how my daughter might find this picture of my room someday and get the same feeling. :)
it's the end of #polaroidweek and i have so many more photos to share, but they will have to wait another time. regular programming to commence soon!