Photographs.

I spent a few hours today digging through old and new photos. I wanted to pin some up in my room so went out and bought some simple black frames to house them. What I didn't realise is quite so many I actually have collected over the years.

I may not be able to use one of those contraptions they call a DSLR or be a whizz at photoshop but I'm not a newbie to photography. When I got my first camera one birthday many many years back I was ecstatic and promptly went around taking pictures of almost anyone and everything in my way until the film ran out. I sent my photos off to be developed (by snail mail) and impatiently waited for them to be returned. I'm not sure where those photos are or even if I still have them around but the feeling is just the same now. I love taking photos, I love looking through people's photos and seeing how they capture them. I love being captured by them. Except now I don't have to wait for my photographs to develop. There is some magic though in the waiting and anticipating.

I love flicking through old photo albums and picking up an oldie and in an instance being transported to that time and place and the feelings of that moment come flooding back. They are also good for a girl with a memory as terrible as mine. Photographs have the power to move you, to capture in a nanosecond the essence of a moment you wanted at that time to freeze forever. And even if those photographs are not your own, there's something about a photograph that can simply speak and tell its own story to the beholder.

So I pinned up my photos (Vonne will be impressed with my fantastic hammering skills...so much so that I had to quite possibly make a few more holes than nexessary just to get it right) so like my room in the royal palace which I miss dearly, I can glance at them from time to time and feel a glow in my heart just remembering those times.