I really like it—I just need to understand why! Taking my camera around, pulling it out of my pocket, snapping a shot, hearing the film roll, or seeing the flash light up the scene with people turning to look because they noticed—and me acting casual, like a cat after it falls. I find this fun, I could say. Then you go to the developer, who asks how you want it done, and you wait a few days for the photos to come back. And then, you have to check to see what you really captured, only to find that all—or at least many—of the photos aren’t quite what you imagined.

They’re not what you expected, not how you thought they’d turn out when you took them. But this doesn’t bother me; in fact, this is exactly what I like. The way the camera adds something of its own, how it participates in the creation, giving a unique touch to each photo. And honestly, I love it—what can I say?

Among these photos, there’s one I took with a Canon Autoboy S loaded with Fujifilm 200 film. It’s of two girls crossing the street at night, and I used the flash. Naturally, the photo came out blurry because, well, this camera isn’t the fastest—it’s an affordable 30 years old point-and-shoot. But when I saw that shot, I thought to myself, huh, this is nice. 

I don’t know why; I have to admit that. Maybe that’s the most interesting part, something I’d like to understand better.

It’s a photo, let’s say, that would never make it into National Geographic—if you imagine an imaginary line, with National Geographic on one end, this photo is no doubt at the very opposite end. Yet, I like it. It gave me a tiny thrill; maybe calling it an emotion would be too much, but still, something like that.

That’s something I should explore further. Maybe it’s because I grew up looking at Daido Moriyama’s work or listening to Run-DMC and things like that—it’s possible. Maybe our aesthetic taste is a layering of images and little huh moments that accumulate over time, forming a stalactite that becomes our sense of taste. Could be—who’s to say?