I came across an old photo of myself recently. It was a picture from the pre-digital age, a time that now seems almost as far removed as the Mesozoic Era, albeit with fewer dinosaurs and nicer clothes. There I was, aged ten or 11, smiling guilelessly at the lens, cheeks squidgy with puppy fat, my face overexposed and slightly sweaty. It wasn’t a
flattering image. It looked so different from my carefully angled selfies. Yet that earlier photo had an unvarnished realness that felt… well, nostalgic.