Project 365 | A Look Back

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Four years ago, I started the photography Project 365. The idea was simple, if difficult to commit to: take one photo every single day for 365 days. Sharing the project online would hold me accountable, I figured, and it worked. I photographed, stored, post processed and posted all 365.

That was 2013. Fast forward four years, bluish glow illuminating from my screen. I’m on a flight next to, presumably, a Statistics teacher, who is raving on about his students. Low whir of plane engine–here goes, nostalgia lane, and I scroll through the album.

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Photos depicted the expected. Essays, tests, new friends, old friends. People I quit talking to. People I started talking to. The dance, the trips, the endless summer drives. Relief, happiness, irritation, impatience, excitement, all rolled into one visual lump.

It felt strange looking back. Had me and xyz really been that close? Realization that things–images– aren’t always what they seem. My diary entries were angstier. Then a light wash of guilt that, over time, I’d lost touch with certain friends. But, well, people come and go, and they’re supposed to.

Still. It felt odd seeing our goofy faces, old friends, heaps of inside jokes. Regardless, this Project 365 brings me a sort of happiness in it of itself. Cue: flickers of nostalgia, fade to black.

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La Vie Este Belle| Photo Diary

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When I was five I’d collect little bugs outside for recess, then, much to my parents’ dismay, make a home for them in the deep-sewn pockets of my green plaid jumper. I thought they were cute. The fear of insects is taught, not ingrained. In some countries, insects are food; people’ll fry bugs on a stick and sell them in the streets.

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Bugs on a stick. Two days before New Years my friend and I ventured into the closest-to-hipster part of town, where my boyfriend and I watched a comedy show over quesadillas and orangey drinks. We found a little shop harkening back to the 60’s, where they sold pop sodas in glass bottles of every flavor imaginable–coffee pop! mayo soda! blueberry pie pop!–as well as ant candies. There was even an open flap on the top and I ran my fingers over the pink sugary glaze, lumpy dead ants like roadbumps in the street.

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We skirted around the city, from a cafe to the contemporary museum to the design district to the art museum, where a stolid quiet leftover Frida sat staring out at the viewer. My friend swiped tirelessly across the orange wall. Left swipe, right right, left swipe, left swipe. Relentless Tindering!

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On another note, do you ever wonder if so-or-so–say, the quiet girl in middle school gym class whom you never spoke to and suspected didn’t like you but was generally indifferent towards and had never had a boyfriend–ever got a boyfriend?

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