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March 8, 2017
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I believe in pictures. I believe in capturing a “Kodak” moment because it was that perfect, because it may never happen again, because it may be your last.

These moments differ from others. You can sometimes remember events but when you look at a picture you remember the specifics, the nitty-gritty details. The fact your brother was pinching you behind your back, or that you were forcing a smile because your mom had just said something to you. Or you remember that you were so happy because you were with your best friends, never to be that young and stupid again.

I believe that pictures do not solely capture the moments you care to remember. They may remind you of that boy you thought you loved, but he broke your heart. You may look back and a sudden flood of bittersweet memories capitalize your mind, making you think about them endlessly. The memories live within the picture, alive, like a live photo, appearing as real for a brisk minute, only to stop abruptly, reminding you it is what it is; a memory.

Pictures show you in a different time, the embarrassing way you dressed, the awkward shape of your body, your development over the years. A documentation of your infancy, your adolescence, your teenage years, college, adulthood, your graduation, your marriage, having kids, your kids getting married, and vicious cycle repeating.
I believe in moments being captured not only with a camera but mentally. Just taking a moment to remove yourself from everything for a moment and to remember everyone there, what was going on, how you’ll remember that very moment 20 years later when the memory is sparked because your kid comes home from school with a story.

Pictures are the glue in which our lives are held together. They keep us close with our childhoods, with those we’ve lost, and these pictures make us remember who they were and why we loved them.

So, yes, I believe in pictures. I believe in “Kodak” moments. I believe in pictures giving us that perfect moment fallacy, because that’s how they appear. Whether the smiles were fake, or you were forced by your annoyingly insistent aunt because we just “had to take this picture,” even though it looks like every single family picture ever taken in my seventeen years, but this one is different, because this one shows someone’s new haircut, or your cousin’s braces off. These seem trivial, but in the end, these pictures are something to believe in.

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