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Don't move a muscle. Smile.

I was cleaning up my room a little bit the other day. I picked through the rubble that was the bottom of my book shelf and made a discovery. It had been so long since I'd even seen the bag, even longer since I'd opened it. I pulled it out. Tubes of undeveloped film spilled out from behind it and rolled across the shelf. I opened the bag.

And pulled out my camera.

I was visiting family in California when I'd gotten it. I must've been around 8 or 9 years old. I had just met the guy, my grandmother's roommate. We didn't speak during my visit until we were about to leave. "Wait," he told me. "I've got something for you." He came back a second later with his hands behind his back. "Do you like to take pictures?" He asked me. I nodded. "Yes." "Then you'll like this." He handed me the camera. It was an old film camera. Not an old-fashioned one, though. It still needed batteries to wind the film. I thanked him for it and started taking pictures.

I took pictures for years, blowing through rolls of film on things I can't remember anymore. I never developed any of the rolls and I know for sure that I threw some away. I regret that, now. But finding that camera brought something back to me. Memories. Passions. Visions. Somethings, I guess would've been more accurate. That's okay. I found my camera.

Nothing beats the novelty of film, but in all honesty it's kind of a hassle to deal with. So I started looking for a digital camera to replace it. Get back into it, I told myself. It's only a good idea. Then I saw the price tags. Okay, I thought. Maybe not the best idea at that price. But I knew it was.

If I am anything, I am a terrible impulse buyer. The action figures on my bookshelf attest to that. But this isn't impulse. It's instinct. There's soul behind it. Sometimes you just can't let go of things.

Thank God.

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