When I was a kid there was this photo booth at our local mall. Every time you went shopping with your girlfriends you had to stop and take pictures, it was practically the law. Then you sat there next to that rattling, glowing box of mystery anxiously waiting to see who turned out good and who'd end up looking like a retard. When the photos finally fell into the little slot everybody got to pick one photo to keep (huge debate). I still have mine, a multitude of discoloured little squares featuring an unrecognizable me in different get ups (black hair, red hair, purple highlights, braids, braces, weird make-up, tons of lipgloss) surrounded by girls I haven't talked to in years.
A while ago that kind of photo booth disappeared to make room for the digital ones where you can review you picture before you print it, and you get four identical copies. So I wonder: where's the fucking fun in that?
xox
Emily
Oh, and click the pic to get to the source, of course.
3 comments:
åh det där blir jag så ledsen över, jag vet inte en enda automat som inte är sådan-fyra-identiska-tråkiga-kopior nuförtiden, whats the fucking point?!
mah! wi tog aldrig såna bilder ihop du och jag.
signe - jag vet! blir sur bara jag tänker på det.
gretchen - det var väl lite innan vår tid?
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