Haven’t you heard? The 90s are having a comeback. Joke. It was just a thing of the weekend. But if you wish to make it your thing, don’t stop on my account. Anyhow.
There’s something about old photos that brings certain melancholy to any scene. Maybe it’s the smell or the rememberance of a happy memory. Time travelling through a picture is quite an emotional journey, I must say. Whenever I look at my parent’s photos from the 80s, there’s a piece of me that wishes they were still in love. Emotional, nonetheless. But last Friday, while looking at my aunt’s college photography portfolio, other feelings were flourishing. I discovered a new inheritance from her: poetry.
It was a portfolio from her last year of college in the 90s, written on a typewriter. That’s another melancholic setting I love: typewriter writing. Black and white photos were introduced by bits of poetry of her own writing. I was impressed by the feeling, the words, the freedom of being young that were inside those poems. It made me think: Does our desire for freedom, our inspiration and capacity to express feelings slowly dies when we age? I hope it’s not my case.
On the other hand, I also found pictures of me that were hiding in her “Jumanji” mess. A picture of me and my aunt Daisy really got to me. I was not even five in that picture and her matrix looking sunglasses and hair really spoke of good old 90s times. That was my kind of love in the 90s. Fortunately, she is still as close to me post-puberty.
Also, enjoy my meal from saturday’s lunch with my mother.