Film is not dead

Light falls on it the way memory falls on walls, leaving patterns of vanished hands. The trees captured in these frames may have grown, may have disappeared, may have migrated into the dreams of others. But here, in this layer of silver, they remain just as the camera saw them-ancient, like the very idea of returning.

Old film holds time differently than we do. It does not rush, does not forget, does not run ahead. In its shadows, past lives can be found; in its highlights, remnants of a sun that no longer exists. And when you look at the developed frame, it seems as if the house you left still waits for you. That the trees still lean toward the windows, peering inside, and in the air lingers the scent of rain that once was... and will be again.