
An imperfect record
Just one more.
A film camera. Many slightly crooked memories.
Someone was always asking us to stand a little closer. Someone was always looking away. There were only twenty-four chances on a roll, and we managed to fill several of them with a thumb.
We waited a week to find out what we had seen. A birthday cake. A sliver of sea. The corner of a room that has since been painted a different colour.
The camera is quiet now. I keep it on the shelf beside the albums, with its strap folded underneath.
I have a much better camera in my pocket. But this is the one that taught us to gather together and stay still for a second.
A fictional story, written for this sample exhibit.