![cr_night_film2003](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/blogger_img_proxy/AEn0k_uHfSlYIm1bK_N2fjYhK-KAnD4qv6CarioXkA2vjyPmEH668ttk2oEMC0RBaXnLga54NVgglgShwAn-pcF2sxSXCehm0fb-ooZ3msjiyDJCfomjE6yvwakiWP8oTxtiNF0=s0-d)
This is old school. 2003 film-camera old school, taken downtown during a poetry reading my wife was a part of. I was just learning photography and how to push film beyond ISO 400 (if I remember right, I pushed it to 1600 for this roll).
Photography was so different. You had to learn the hard way - by waiting till the film was developed. I remember spending hours shooting and then developing my film, only to see that I had screwed up the temperature or something stupid, effectively wasting all that time. I remember the smell of the chemicals and washing my hands over-and-over again, knowing the smell would be there no matter what.
Yet... there was still something magical about it. When a photo turned out, it was truly an experience that mattered. There was a bit more "substance" to it - as you carried it around with you like a gift, showing it to those important to you.
Too often now all my photos stay hidden on my hard drive, or uploaded to some website. Although I would never go back to film, there is no denying the magical quality of the final print, after hours in the darkroom.