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Category: Essays

  • What’s the appeal of analog photography?

    What’s the appeal of analog photography?

    You have to be afraid of technology or pretentious to love analog photography – or both. At least that is what I thought until not long ago. However, a few months ago my perspective completely shifted, and now this hobby is a huge part of my life that I don’t want to miss – but why?

    In this post, I want to discover the reason for that perspective shift and explore what it is that makes analog photography so appealing for people like me. The goal is to help anyone reading this decide if this hobby is truly for them and how they can get started.

    The Spark

    Why get started?
    The rational reason: constantly being reliant on screens and “being available” – looking for something calm that nudges me to explore my surroundings.
    The emotional reason: watching “One Battle after Another” on 70mm film projection in a cinema, falling in love with the look of the film and grain (I was trying to come up with a rational explanation for that, but I can’t…it’s a feeling – that’s it). I ordered my camera, a Canon AE-1 with a 50mm lens, the same night.

    Starting is frustrating

    The first hurdle in starting this hobby is getting a camera. To be honest, this part can be exhausting and cause a lot of insecurity. The internet is full of advice, but much of it is actually overwhelming and can cause frustration. My tip is: don’t get stuck in analysis paralysis; there are three easy ways to decide on a camera:

    1. Get your parents’ or grandparents’ old camera. This is a luxury not everyone will have available to them, but if you happen to know someone who will give you their old camera, take it. To learn how to use it, just Google the camera model and you will probably find plenty of tutorials – or take a look at the next tip.
    2. Go to a local shop specialising in photography – best case: specialising in analog photography. They will have a selection of cameras and lenses and can help you figure out the best option for your goals and budget. On top of that, they can help you understand the basics of using your camera straight away, and you already have a go-to shop for developing your film later. In Berlin, I can strongly recommend PhotostudioBerlin.
    3. Buy from an enthusiast. This is the option I chose and am very happy with. After Googling a bit, I found a photographer in Germany with a website selling well-maintained analog cameras, lenses and more (shoutout to sniggiscameras.de).

    If you didn’t get a roll of film while purchasing your camera, go ahead and get your first one – local drugstores or photography shops will have you covered – you can’t go wrong with the bestsellers for your first roll.

    The joy of good engineering

    Once the camera, lens and roll of film are assembled, the actual fun and the appeal of analog photography begin – we have to assemble our tools. This means figuring out all the mechanical and electrical mechanisms of the camera, which allow us to attach the lens, put in the film and maybe even add a battery (depending on the camera), as well as understanding the various buttons and dials.

    Objectively, modern smartphones are more complicated and more technically impressive than these “relics” of an older time, but they don’t capture our sense of awe in the way these analog tools do. A possible reason for that is that modern tools like the smartphone try to hide their engineering as much as possible and aim to streamline the process of using them to its simplest form. And I guess that is a necessity; after all, the workings of a smartphone are so complex that no human brain could truly fathom them – or can you visually imagine how the processor of the iPhone 17 Pro makes your TikTok scroll possible?

    Analog cameras, on the other hand, while more limited in what they can do, demand far more attention. They are easy enough to grasp while challenging enough to keep you engaged. All the buttons and dials do something, and that invites exploration.

    Literally learning by doing

    A camera wasn’t made to be admired; it was made to take photos, so what’s so appealing about that? Here it gets more complex. First off, I don’t want to say analog photography is better than digital photography or smartphone photography – all of them have pros and cons and have a place and time to be used. The appeal of using analog cameras does not make smartphones less appealing at the things they are great at – so let’s not talk about convenience, cost or ease of use, because that is definitely not what analog cameras are made for.

    What analog excels at more than any other form of photography is progression. It severely limits your options and forces you to focus on just a few parameters when taking a picture – without allowing you to undo or correct anything. This automatically forces you to think more about every single shot you take. Simply put, with every picture, the stakes are higher – all your effort (and money for film and development) could be wasted. If you are someone who loves figuring out technical details and analysing your best and worst work, this is exactly what makes you fall in love with this hobby. You can set it up so that you constantly feel like you are learning something new and getting better at something that requires skill.

    Analog Photography is like drugs, gambling & Christmas combined

    Receiving a gift, wrapped in beautiful paper, is a joy unlike many others. The anticipation of opening the present, the curiosity about what might be inside, fills your brain with so many joyful chemicals that often feel more intense than the reveal itself. I get the same feeling every time I bring a roll of film in for development, peaking in the moment I see the email with the attached scans of the images I took – were the images as good as I wanted? Are some even better? By the way, these same chemical mechanisms are at work when you are addicted to something – the anticipation of a drug or behaviour causes more dopamine than the drug or behaviour itself.

    But unlike my favourite drug, Kinder Schokobons, the results of my scanned film rolls can often sustain my joy. Granted, especially in the beginning, many pictures don’t turn out as I wanted them to, but that makes the ones that do so much more rewarding. Again, the same principle as gambling: slot machines make you win some and lose some – the losses make the wins feel more rewarding. Think of that connection between gambling and photography what you will…

    The water runs so much deeper.

    Everything above reflects my experience of a little less than six months. I feel like I have learned so much and yet there is still so much more to explore: so many types of film, genres of photography to try, different lens types, books to read, workshops to attend and conversations to have – not to mention the rabbit hole of developing your own film. With analog photography, the learning never stops, but it always gives you enough moments of achievement to motivate you to keep going.

    To summarise, I think the main appeal of analog photography is exactly that: the constant feeling of getting better at a skill by continually providing you with a challenge that is complex enough to demand your attention and problem-solving, while still simple enough to grasp and stay motivating. Your outcomes cause all kinds of emotions: from disappointment all the way to cheerfulness and even a healthy dose of pride. Without the super low lows, which you simply don’t get with the same intensity in smartphone photography, the emotional highs wouldn’t feel as earned and rewarding.

    As a final bonus, if you also love organising – both in the digital and analog world – you will find it very satisfying to build an organisation and storage system for the film negatives and digital scans of your photos. Nevertheless, this hobby requires you to constantly solve problems, and if that is what you are into, give it a shot.

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  • Valve did something amazing, but companies are not your friend

    Valve did something amazing, but companies are not your friend

    Valve, the company behind Steam, announced three new devices a couple of weeks ago: a gaming PC, a controller and a VR headset. All three of them are genuinely innovative and solve problems in the gaming industry. I haven’t been this excited for a new tech product in years. The chance is 99% that I will buy the Controller and the PC called the Steam Machine. But, the aftermath of the announcement made me very uneasy – not because Valve did anything wrong (this time), but because of how the internet reacted to this announcement.

    First though, let’s appreciate a simple fact: Product announcements like this have become rare in modern tech.

    How to do a 2025 tech announcement

    1. Say “AI” at least once per minute to cash in on the hype.
    2. Force a subscription onto the device for the illusion of affordability.
    3. Lock everything behind a “walled garden” and call it seamless integration into your ecosystem.

    Valve did none of that. Instead, they simply announced products people actually want. And they didn’t even have to turn off the comments, because people genuinely loved it.

    Let’s go through the hardware briefly, because the nature of these products is part of what caused the hype spiral.

    Meet the GabeCube

    The Steam Machine is a plug-and-play gaming box powered by SteamOS (which is based on Linux). That means it is a real PC you can customise, not a console that dictates what you can and cannot do. Valve literally says on their announcement page: “Who are we to tell you how to use your computer?”

    • You don’t need Windows, which continues its annual tradition of getting worse. But you can install it if you want.
    • Your existing library works: Steam games, other launchers, old games, new games, and even emulators. No re-buying games for each console generation, no subscription to access games you owned on a previous console.

    The internet already nicknamed it the “GabeCube,” a mix of Gabe Newell (CEO and founder of Valve) and the legendary Nintendo GameCube console. That nickname already hints at the deeper issue behind this announcement: The internet loves glorifying people.

    The not-Apple controller

    The new Steam Controller comes with trackpads so you can play mouse-oriented games from your couch. It works with Steam devices – but also with your Mac, Android device, or Windows PC. The charging puck doubles as a low-latency antenna for quick response time. And yet, if you prefer, you can use USB or Bluetooth.

    Instead of being locked into Steam devices, you can use this thing with whatever you want. Apple would never do that.

    VR that doesn’t Zuck

    The Steam Frame improves wireless PC-VR streaming in genuinely impressive ways.
    Most importantly to me: it’s an alternative to Meta’s Quest headset. I don’t really care about VR, but in case I ever do, I am glad a device controlled by Mark Zuckerberg is not my only choice.

    Why Valve can be nice to you (for now)

    The internet is in awe. Everything sounds great. Sure, some people complain that the Steam Machine is not powerful enough for playing the newest games on the highest settings in 4K resolution… but those people would build their own multi-thousand-dollar PCs anyway. This machine is for anyone who wants an easy entry into casual gaming. And that is great.

    So how can Valve announce new products that actually deliver value without charging extra for it? No subscription, no lock-in, and freedom to use the devices as you wish.

    The Short and oversimplified answer:
    Valve is a private company.

    Apple, Google, Meta, Microsoft – all public corporations enslaved to quarterly earnings. Their job is to show profit growth every three months. Everything else is secondary. Valve can plan long term and has the option to decide against more profit if it means unethical behaviour.

    Public companies inevitably enshittificate.
    Private companies don’t have to necessarily – but they can.

    But the long answer is a bit more sinister.

    Valve isn’t magically noble. Their incentives are just different. Valve sells games – that is how they make money.

    Steam is basically a money printer. It was the first major PC game launcher, and once you start building your library there, you don’t just abandon it. So you keep buying games on Steam. For every purchase, Steam gets a 30% cut. This is the same 30% cut Apple gets roasted and sued for, by the way.

    A public company in that position would squeeze users – it is the most obvious and quickest way to make money.

    Valve squeezes developers instead – indie studios in particular. Right now there is a class action lawsuit against Valve because of that. This is particularly frustrating, because the company charges the 30% fee only for low-revenue games – everything that rakes in millions gets lower fees. Also, a developer is not allowed to sell the game cheaper elsewhere. In simple terms: small, independent developers have to pay a higher percentage of their already low incomes than big triple-AAA companies with huge margins.

    So yes, Steam is great for users – but someone is paying the bill. And it’s not you.

    Internet, please don’t ruin this

    Steam holds a monopoly. They charge high fees. And they absolutely have the power to enshittify the platform for users overnight.

    This is the moment where the “uneasy feeling” I mentioned at the start comes in.
    Valve isn’t just being praised – it’s being idolised. Gabe Newell is treated like the saviour of gaming. All the unethical business practices get ignored or justified. That is dangerous.

    And we have been here before.

    Hardcore Apple fans are a cult. People defended them through weird, expensive dongles, ports being removed, ecosystem lock-in and barely-changed iPhones. Steve Jobs has a fanbase army as extreme as Taylor Swift.

    Call it what it is: Stockholm Syndrome.

    I also own, use and love many apple products – they work great for what I need them to. However, Apple, the company, has a long list of unethical business practices that we need to continuously call out.

    Blind loyalty makes it easier for any company – even Valve – to do whatever boosts revenue while users insist it’s good for them.

    The moment the internet starts treating a CEO like a messiah, we stop paying attention to what the company actually does. Today, Valve gives you freedom. Tomorrow, they might decide they need to make more revenue from you – and we would have no leverage.

    Companies Aren’t Your Friends

    Valve makes great products. They deserve praise. A lot of it. They also do not-so-great things, for that they deserve critique. We can celebrate all the great things they do while showing that we don’t take any bullshit.

    No person or company should be put on a pedestal – especially not one with this much power and this much leverage over its users. Valve could decide tomorrow to squeeze the user. We wouldn’t have many options to do anything about it.

    Celebrate the good decisions. Call out the bad ones.

    So, well done Valve! I hope you succeed with the new hardware you announced, but I also hope you make your platform fairer for small developers.

    Glorify actions, not individuals or organisations.

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  • There is an app for that – but maybe there shouldn’t be

    There is an app for that – but maybe there shouldn’t be

    The success of the smartphone boils down to one thing — the reason iOS and Android conquered the world while no one remembers Windows Phone: there’s an app for everything.

    Your teachers might’ve told you to “learn how to calculate in your head because you won’t be carrying a calculator in your pocket all the time.” Jokes on them. We now carry not just a calculator, but also a camera, a bank, a navigation device, a notepad, a 24/7 everything-store, and much more — all in one small glowing rectangle.

    Thinking about it, it is a groundbreaking piece of technology. Having a device that can do almost anything sounds utopian — but what did we, as humanity, actually choose to do with it?

    Stalker in your pocket

    Imagine you’re walking through town and see an interesting little shop. You go in, maybe buy something, maybe not. But after you leave, a sales guy from the store starts following you around.

    He watches what you look at, where you go, who you meet. Sometimes he whispers, “I got something new in my store, come see it.” Other times, he shouts, “Limited time offer! Only today! — only for you, my dear friend!”

    At first, it’s mildly annoying. Then it gets weird. You’re sitting at a café with an actual friend, talking about how your old fridge is getting loud — and suddenly, the guy bursts in, throws pictures of ten fridges on your table, and says, “My friend! Special price just for you — only within the next two hours though. You’ll love this one, trust me!”

    How long would you last until you punch that guy?

    Now imagine you have not one of these guys, but an army of them — all following you, shouting over each other, trying to get your attention every minute of the day.

    That’s exactly what’s happening with your apps. Bombarding you with constant notifications. It’s not just shopping apps — they’re simply the worst offenders.

    How many tears are optimal for engagement?

    Over the years, app makers have perfected the science of getting you to open their app again. It’s not random — it’s behavioral design. Entire teams of psychologists and engineers spend their days figuring out how to poke at your brain’s weak spots until you give in and tap.

    That goes as far as Duolingo testing how many tears the little owl should cry when you forget a daily lesson. Every sound, badge, and notification is a small experiment on human attention:

    Red dots create urgency.

    Streaks and progress bars reward consistency.

    “Only today” deals trigger FOMO.

    Infinite scroll keeps you chasing the next little hit of dopamine, since there’s no definite end.

    And it’s not just shopping apps.

    Social media keeps you chasing likes and comments.

    Streaming apps autoplay the next episode before you can even think.

    Even so-called “productivity” apps track your streaks and send guilt trips when you miss a day. But since you are so special and so productive: you can repair your streak – for a few bucks.

    It’s not evil — it’s “just business.” The more time you spend inside the app, the more valuable you are. You’ll either spend money, watch ads, or feed the algorithms with data that make the next hook even sharper.

    Shopping apps are true masters of this craft. They dangle “exclusive” discounts and fake countdowns that reset every week, all while whispering “special offer just for you.”

    It’s a system designed to keep your attention spinning in circles

    What it is not designed for: your control. Every swipe, every tap, every “just one more minute” is time you didn’t choose to spend — it was chosen for you.

    It’s not spying, it’s predicting

    Privacy is everyone’s own decision. If you want to share everything online, that’s your choice — and honestly, that’s fine. 

    But the reality is: the data you give isn’t the only data they get. And “they” are often also multiple “theys”

    Most apps don’t just track what you enter — they track how you behave. Where you go, how long you stay there, what time you unlock your phone, even how fast you scroll or how long you hesitate before tapping something. These little patterns are used to figure out who you are when you’re most vulnerable — the moments when you’re tired, lonely, stressed, or bored. They call those “optimal engagement windows.” If you don’t believe me, believe the New York Times.

    Think about it: after a long, exhausting day, you open your phone just to check the weather — and somehow end up looking at food delivery deals. That’s not a lucky coincidence. That’s design. The app knows that right after 6 p.m., you’re more likely to engage with their notifications.

    It’s not a hacker stealing your data — it’s a system that knows exactly when to whisper in your ear.

    Even if you don’t care about privacy, care about your peace of mind. Because those little red dots and push notifications aren’t neutral. They’re designed to create tension — that tiny discomfort that only goes away once you tap. Every time you give in, you teach your brain that distraction feels better than focus.

    How about Movies in Bed with Your Boss?

    At this point, you might think the solution is simple: just delete all the apps, right?

    No notifications, no data collection, no manipulative algorithms — peace at last.

    But it’s not that easy. Some apps are genuinely useful. They help us navigate, stay in touch, learn, and get things done. The problem is that even the useful ones can be a little too eager to stay involved. Especially the ones we use for work.

    Imagine this: you come home after a long day at the office. You’re exhausted, your head still buzzing with pointless politics and the sound of your coworker’s incompetence echoing in your brain. You drop your bag, take a deep breath, and finally start to relax.

    Your loving family makes it all fade away — there’s laughter, a good meal, maybe even dessert. Later, you all settle into the couch, ready to unwind with Happy Gilmore 2. Life is good.

    SUDDENLY — your boss bursts through the window yelling about the slideshow you have to finish two days from now.

    Ridiculous image, right? But that’s exactly what we’ve normalized with Slack notifications, email alerts, and app pings that follow us everywhere — even into bed.

    Every app wants to be urgent. Every notification wants to convince you that now is the time to look, scroll, buy, respond. And slowly, without noticing, we lose control over when we give our attention — it’s taken from us in tiny, polite interruptions.

    What Are We actually Saving the Time For?

    I’ve been reading a book lately that I can’t stop thinking about. In it, a group of agents convinces the once kind, thoughtful people of a town that they must “save time” — so they can enjoy it later.

    So, they start waking up earlier, scheduling every minute, cutting small talk, automating chores, avoiding anything that doesn’t benefit them.

    At first, it seems to work — they get more done. But soon, their world turns miserable. People stop laughing. They stop helping each other. They do everything they can to “save time” – but somehow feel they have less time than ever. 

    Sounds like a critique of modern productivity culture, right?

    The book is Momo — written in 1973.

    I know what you are thinking: what the hell does that have to do with apps?

    Well, every app installation begins with a promise of convenience — of saving time, effort, or friction. And that’s fine, even good. But maybe we should remind ourselves of that promise more often, because most apps end up breaking it in the long run — quietly stealing our time instead of saving it.

    We Are Not Totally Fucked

    We can’t — and shouldn’t — get rid of apps. But we should take control back into our own hands. Most of it comes down to small, deliberate choices — the kind that make technology feel like a tool again instead of a trap.

    Start by asking yourself a few questions:

    • Does this really need to be an app, or can I just use it in a browser? How often do I really use this — is it worth keeping on my phone?
    • Do I need to see all notifications, or should I just turn them off? (You can easily do this in the app’s settings or on your phone.)
    • Do I have two apps that basically do the same thing? Could I just get rid of one of them?
    • Is this a phone activity or a laptop activity? Do I really want a business having access to me all day — even in my most vulnerable moments?

    Smartphones aren’t the problem — it’s the apps that misuse them. The right ones can add real value without stealing your focus.

    I use services like YouTube, Instagram, and Reddit only in the browser, so I’m less tempted to open them mindlessly (that extra loading time helps me reflect on what the hell I’m actually doing).

    Meanwhile, apps like Chess, Books, Maps, and Urban Sports bring real value to my day — without a single notification.

    Shopping, booking flights, hotels — I only do those on my laptop. When a trip comes up, I download the airline app, check in, board, and delete it after the trip. Simple.

    And I’ll admit — Duolingo still reminds me about my streak every day. They’ve really nailed the exact number of owl tears to keep me coming back.

    Then again, it’s not about doing everything perfectly — it’s about making steady progress at your own pace. Opting out of the “app for everything” mindset is about building systems that serve you instead of exploiting you.

    Maybe that means deleting a few apps. Maybe it means silencing a few notifications. Maybe it just means paying more attention.

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  • Opting out of enshitification

    Opting out of enshitification

    The term enshitification has been floating around a lot lately — and honestly, it’s one of those rare internet words that just nails a feeling. It was originally coined by writer Cory Doctorow, who coined the term in 2023 to describe how once-great platforms slowly rot over time as they chase profit and power. In his words: first, they’re good to users; then, they start squeezing users to please business customers; and finally, they screw over everyone just to keep shareholders happy. He wrote this excellent article about it.

    Since then, the word has taken on a life of its own — used more broadly to describe anything that somehow feels worse now than it did a few years ago. The internet. Your favorite app. The news. Customer service. Basically, modern life.

    It’s a word that captures that creeping sense we all have that everything kind of sucks now. Everything is a subscription or full of ads and social media is setting the world on fire while shoving AI slop into our faces. What actually breaks me is that that AI slop is sometimes actually really fucking funny.

    Remember when the internet was about connecting with friends, not doomscrolling through algorithmic noise? Now every platform seems to justify its massive AI investment by forcing “smart” features no one asked for — and then charging us more for them. Monthly…for whatever reason. Meanwhile, the world is full of matcha-protein-latte entrepreneurs trying to sell you some drop-shipped gadget to fix a problem you didn’t have, just to cover the cost of the get-rich-quick course that told them to do this instead of finding a profession that makes them actually useful.

    The problem is clear — so how do we opt out?

    Just Google “enshitification of X.” And you will find something that agrees with your hunch. But complaining only gets us so far. The more interesting question is: how do we opt out?

    Because even though enshitification hits hard in so many areas, we don’t have to enshitify our lives. That is easy to forget since our brains are wired to fixate on what’s broken, not what’s working (Negativity Bias). The more we focus on the shit, the more we feed it. 

    That’s part of why enshitification keeps rolling on — it thrives on our attention.

    And maybe that’s also why we don’t yet have a widespread good word for doing the opposite. For the act of opting out of the nonsense. Any ideas? Maybe Un-Enshitification (super catchy) or Rehumanisation (which sounds like repopulating the planet after a mass extinction).

    Whatever we call it, that’s what I want to explore — not to slam AI, modern tech, or social media, but to find the gems that still do great shit.

    Appreciate what already works

    Opting out starts with appreciation — the quiet rebellion of using things well.

    Take smartphones. For 99% of people, the real innovation peak hit somewhere between 2018 and 2020. Cameras are great. Screens are sharp. Everything since then has been incremental improvement dressed up as the “best phone we ever made”. 

    The trade-off? Incremental value improvements for the same (or mostly even higher purchase price) mean diminishing returns. Diminishing returns feel like enshitification because you’re paying more for less impact.

    The truth is your phone can easily last 7–10 years if you don’t crush it, drown it, or stuff it with unnecessary apps. Repairs are getting easier and cheaper too.

    Swapping your battery instead of buying a new phone sounds wrong, but actually makes sense if you think about it. You’ll still use it for the exact same tasks, at roughly the same speed, but one option costs you a small repair fee and the other costs a thousand bucks. In both cases, you’re scrolling the same feeds, texting the same people, taking the same photos. The difference is that in one scenario, you’ve kept your money.

    And if what you already own really can’t be fixed — buy used. There’s zero shame in it; often you’ll end up with something better made anyway. Refurbished phones are fantastic —  Clothes? Even better. Some brands like Patagonia have entire programs built around repair and resale. That’s real sustainability.

    Opting out begins there – realizing that satisfaction isn’t in getting the “new,” it’s in making the “old” feel new again.

    Create instead of consume

    Opting out doesn’t mean working harder — it means getting creative again.

    We’ve been trained to think convenience is king, but real joy often comes from making something yourself. Instead of paying a monthly subscription for a habit tracker just so it stops showing you ads for scammy mobile games, build your own version with Apple Shortcuts or a simple spreadsheet.

    Yeah, it takes a bit of tinkering, but it’s fun. You get to shape something for you — not for investors, not for data collection, just for personal usefulness. And once it works, that little rush of “I made this” hits harder than any app notification ever could.

    That’s creativity as resistance. And if there is something you can’t create yourself, look further than the number one spot on the App Store and check if you can find something with a lifetime plan and/or from an independent developer. 

    This area is a rabbit hole for many more posts though. So, come back here sometimes.

    Re-embrace inconvenience

    Modern life worships convenience. But sometimes the inconvenient option brings the most joy.

    Film photography is the perfect example. On paper, digital cameras obliterate film — faster, cheaper, flawless. Yet analog shooters love the slowness: picking a moment carefully, adjusting settings, waiting to see what develops. That’s attention and care, not inconvenience.

    You don’t need a film camera to get the point. The same mindset applies anywhere: cook something instead of ordering in, read a book instead doomscrolling.  Fix the thing instead of replacing it. 

    Doing something slower, not the most productive way or with more friction than needed can be exactly what you need. After all, hiking (the noun) isn’t about teleporting somewhere – it is about hiking (the verb).

    The takeaway

    Choosing not to enshitify your life doesn’t make you anti-tech or amish— it just means you remember what progress is for.

    We can’t stop the world from enshitifying, but we can choose not to join in. We can maintain, repair, create, and care. We can pay attention to what’s good instead of giving in to what’s bad.

    So my first step toward all this is starting this blog — second, actually. The first was buying an analog camera even though I have no idea what I’m doing.

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