So really, we were having our photographs taken in anticipation of our own gaze back. As subjects, we faced the camera and posed for others-mostly our friends and families but also our future selves-who would be looking back at this image months and years later. We took photographs so as to have something to remember the moment by. Every photograph required a degree of thought and deliberation: “Does this look right?” It was around this time that I began to think about the significance of the photographs I took-and why I took them at all. We spoke of rolls and exposure counts as if we were soldiers in some ragtag army running out of ammunition we chose our shots carefully, and still wondered whether our photos were any good. It was important to know how many exposures would fit on a roll, and the camera kept a running tally of photographs taken. Taking a photograph was always a special occasion. When my brother was ready to transfer that murky image onto the film inside the box, he would push on the lever- click!-and as if by magic, a photograph would be taken. His was like a camera obscura, a black, metallic, perfectly square box, with a lens on one side and a glass screen on the other, on which you could see projected the image inside. My brother had been given one already, two years before. Translated from the Turkish by Ekin Oklap.
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