When these tiny things meant so much to us in the past

Disposable Cameras and Waiting to See the Pictures
You didn’t know if the photo turned out.

You hoped.

You counted exposures carefully. No retakes. No previews. Just trust.

Then you waited days — sometimes weeks — to pick up the developed prints.

Opening that envelope felt ceremonial.

Some photos were blurry. Some overexposed. Some perfect.

But they were real.

You couldn’t curate your life through filters. You accepted imperfection. You laughed at closed eyes. You cherished the candid.

Now we take hundreds of photos and delete most instantly. Back then, each click mattered.

Scarcity gave it value.

Saving AIM Away Messages
Away messages were tiny autobiographies.