The Scent of Nostalgia

I’ll admit to suffering from nostalgia. I like old cars – on the weekend, when I don’t need to be anywhere. I like old cameras – for the mechanical precision and the engineering sensibilities. I like old houses – for they have stood the test of time and adapted.

And I still read print, on the weekends, when I have the time to peruse and then wash my hands.

But, on all other days, I like my digital cameras that don’t force me to be exposed to toxic chemicals. I like my reliable, safe modern car. And I like my news delivered in the most appropriate medium, and that isn’t always text and still photos on a printed page.

Still, this is kind of cool … I remember touring the Globe and seeing the presses as a kid. I remember my few meetings on Morrissey Boulevard when I was looking for work or buying a lens from one of the staff photojournalists there.

The scent of ink will always be a little sweet to me, in the same way the smell of my 51 year old Mustang is nice on a Saturday morning … but not on a Monday commute.

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