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These are small pieces of text and other media, writing in a hurry, left fleeting in my collection of notes.

A dark image of Norwegian fjords, as well as a reflection of my living room window in Amsterdam. I need to get myself a photo scanner. The colors closely resemble what the scene actually looked like, and I like the mystery of it, but other people tell me the contrast is too high.

Another blown-out photo of Anja in front of our cabin in Gol, Norway. I still don’t have a good handle on sunlight.

A sunny afternoon in Gol, Norway. This one came out slightly on the light side, but it still works for me. Focus is fine. The lighting in the corners makes me wonder: is there some kind of vignette thing going on?

Lemonade in her first ever dog bed in Gol, Norway. I don’t know why this came out with improper focus. Was it my proximity to Lemonade, or the fact that the room was quite dark without the flash? Does the Polaroid focus at any moment? Can I adjust that focus?

A sunny early morning in the Swedish countryside. We stayed at this lovely AirBnb on the way to Norway. It seems the tree outline is trapped in a weird soft focus. Other than that, I like this picture.

Anja outside our AirBnB in Sweden. This came out way too white despite my flash being turned off. I have a lot of learning to do around the Polaroid’s handling of sunlight.

My friend Tim outside Roos' house. I’m pleased by how well the colors came out on this one.

My very first instant photograph, taken at home against a white wall. Holding the Polaroid comfortably at arm’s length results in a slight blur.

New Year’s Eve is sweet. I spent the morning at Coffee Company Oosterdok working on my website. The girl barista and the guy who came to take over her shift are apparently dating. He’s got a full mullet and a geeky mustache. It’s that season of fashion again. He was the type of soft masculine only Gen Z-ers can be. At 36, I seem to be developing a habit of noticing how much I’m no longer an 18-year-old. Everyone who seems my age addresses me with the formal “u”. I also saw S in the street. It’s the first anniversary of her father’s passing and she was wondering out loud what could properly trigger an ugly cry. She offered me a red velvet “oliebol”, which looked like a fried dog treat. No thank you, ma’am. A friendly face in the neighborhood knocks on our window and tells me she has enjoyed getting to know us a little more, and that she hopes to be in touch more in 2024. 6pm and pizzas enter the oven. It took only 15 minutes for us to finally get into Better Call Saul. I expect I won’t even make it until midnight. Happy New Year!