I spent 2 days in Lisbon in January before heading on a road trip towards the atlantic ocean . It was 15-20 degrees C, sunny and surprisingly uncrowded for it was their winter – I couldn’t complain.
Loved seeing the yellow trams chugging along narrow cobbled streets.
Quaint plazas with sharp shadows
Pastel colors on buildings along pretty alleys
Sun gleaming like it was summer, squares empty as if it was winter
Capturing a photo on film evokes this strange feeling in me: a slice of time being arrested; the moment physically is frozen; to be stowed away; to never be lost, but to be forgotten; forever left in dust-filled boxes, in cobweb filled attics, only to let me reminiscence into the past when re-discovered decades later in future.
I have to admit that my expectation of this feeling, of using a disposable camera to be similar to that of traditional film camera – was misinformed. The idea that the very device used to capture these moments, will be lifeless and pretty much useless after doing so; made me feel the added dimension of ephemeralness to the format. I have neither expected nor anticipated this, and it has left me gasping to slow down.
With digital cameras I usually take anywhere between few hundreds to few thousands of pictures in an year. On film, a hundred pictures or so. But with a disposable camera, I managed to take a mere 30 shots in an entire year; of those 5 were a lost, forever; leaving me wondering, what was in it? where was I? what was I thinking?; questions, which perhaps, I will never get the answers for.
Here are some of my favourite moments in the “forever format”
Recently I made a trip to Portugal. While I landed in Lisbon, after a couple of days I was tempted to go see the Atlantic ocean, and so I ended up renting a car and driving about 750kms in 2 days, all the way to the south-westernmost point and along the Atlantic coast of Portugal.
The main subject on my agenda was to see the coastal cliffs in the town called Sagres. The views brought back memories of Etretat in France, with the biggest difference being the splashing sounds of furious ocean waves.
Standing alone on a secluded beach was such a delight
I drove a little further to see the spectacular sunset from the light house
As the light waned, I made a reservation in a nearby hotel, where I woke up to spectacular blues – both in sight and in mood for I didn’t want to leave that place.
Now I look back, dream of the day I drive along this road again, back to those blues.
