I used to work in a framing shop – one of my many careers – and part of the job was developing film.
Every so often, someone would bring in a roll that had been sitting in a drawer for years. You’d feed it through the machine, wait, and there it was – a wedding, a flatmate’s old cat, a blurry photo of half a tree.
But these canisters are the leftovers; the part no one wanted once the photos were printed. They used to pile up in the bin at the end of the week, and it’s always bugged me how much of that stuff just disappears.
So I started keeping them. Cleaning them up. Turning them into keychains.
