A Love Letter to the Disposable Camera
There is a specific feeling that I am going to try to describe, and I am not sure I will succeed. It is the feeling of being nine years old in 1996, holding a plastic Kodak FunSaver on a wrist strap, with the flash recycling and the little red ready light blinking on and off, knowing that I had 27 chances to take a picture and that I would not see any of them until my mom got the envelope back from the grocery store a week later. It is the feeling of a camera that did not ask anything of me and did not promise anything in return, and it is the feeling I have been trying to recapture in pieces ever since.