It’s been staring at me, the Pentax, for a long time now. Begging me to go for a walk so it could see, not the world exactly, but at least the nearest surroundings. Stretch out, move a little, internally as well as just being around, breathe the fresh air..

And I’ve always replied, —“nahh, I don’t even know where your films are, so being outside wouldn’t make much sense, right?”

And it would nod, as if it agreed, patiently, in silcence. Knowing the time would come.

Well, look what fell out of a bag I just emptied.

One less reason not to load it up—it seems like the Pentax and I are going for a walk.

— o —

Not entirely unrelated, I seem to recall reading something recently about how film and I never had the love affair I had hoped for.

Not long after the films fell out of that bag, while attempting to trim the mess that is my four thousand and something photos on Flickr, I stumbled upon the photo below, of the Voigtlander Perkeo II laying in the grass somewhere in West–Iceland. And even if the images we did together never lived up to the hopes I had for them (for the lack of a more proper analysis) the Perkeo and I had quite the affair, right until the bellows started leaking.

Voigtlander Perkeo II on green background.

As for the incompleteness regarding my film photography, it was mostly a matter of never developing a proper workflow. Processing was inconsistent, so was scanning, and if I am about to expose the films that fell out of a bag they will most certainly suffer the same fate, if I don’t get these things in order. Sure, it might be a little enjoyable to look at decent sized negatives again but after being looked at they would slowly but surely become a part of the weight of unaccessible films. And that’s not excactly constructive.