I love photos. I have albums and albums filled with pictures. Memories galore. Some of my albums are antiques (weird to say, I know) to me– pre-digital era. Those are the albums I’d definitely grab if there was ever a fire (god forbid). I enjoy looking back– my evolving style, my evolving life. I can look at a photo and put myself back in that specific time. Some photos make me sad while others hysterical with laughter.
At twenty-five, I feel blessed to have led such a colorful life filled with all sorts of adventures and sagas. And photos remind me of this. I don’t remember ever being painfully shy. But I know I was. I know through photos, I definitely was. I don’t remember, all the cakes Boma would make me for each birthday. I don’t remember the details: the color, texture. But with a photo, I see it, I remember it all. Without pictures, my biggest fear is that I wouldn’t remember the past– the people and all my memories (good and bad). I take pride in keeping an organized collection of pictures. To me, they are my lifelines to the past.
I’d like to share some of my favorite photos (though I wish I could share them all).
