Have you ever felt like life was passing by quicker and quicker? It’s a common feeling that seems to become more and more present as we age. One hypothesis explaining this phenomenon is that, as we age, the number of novel experiences we have decreases. During childhood, everything is new and kids look at the world with wonder and excitement. In early adulthood, the novelty may have decreased but that period is filled with milestone events that help structure our lives: high school graduations, university, first jobs, weddings…
We tend to remember events relative to other events: this was the summer after my graduation, or this was the year of my wedding… If we experience less of those events, time feels quicker. William James, a 19th century psychologist wrote in the late 1800s:
Each passing year converts some of this experience into automatic routine which we hardly notice at all, the days and weeks smooth themselves out in recollection, and the years grow hollow and collapse.
At some point in adulthood, automatic behaviours take over while novelty fades in the background. We figure out the patterns of life and it becomes easy to slip into a routine that gives us the impression that years are passing by in the blink of an eye. It’s up to us to seek new experiences, break routines, and notice the small moments. One way I’ve found to bring back a sense of presence is by keeping a daily photo journal.
Since the beginning of the year, I’ve been keeping a daily photo journal. It consists of one photo per day of a moment that represents that day for me. I first read about
’s photo journal project in 2023, and the idea stuck with me until I finally tried it this year.Initially I thought this would be a project focused on photography, that each day’s photo would be an artistic expression capturing dramatic light or street photography scenes that I usually aim for on photo walks. Quickly, that idea faded. I realized that the daily photos weren’t about “good” photography but about creating a daily act of connection: to my own life, my surroundings, and the way I spend my time.





There are big moments that are worth remembering and since they are big, holding on to the memory is straightforward. You don’t need a daily photo journal to remember your wedding day, but it does take a photo journal to remember the small moments, the ones that eventually add up to make up our lives: like the first time my wife and I ate on those vintage plates she got for Christmas because she specifically wanted the exact same plates her grandmother had. Or the time we sat on the kitchen floor eating carrots for no other reason than it being as good a place as any to sit. Or the time the stomach flu kept me lying on a couch all day. Or the time I got caught in a thunderstorm only to find refuge in a flower shop that kindly offered me shelter and a cup of tea. Or catching up with old friends and enjoying an overpriced plate of sushi. Or the first time I tried to make a new recipe and it turned out just right. Or “just” the morning light casting soft shadows on my bedroom wall.
These are the quiet details that time tends to blur, and the ones I would have forgotten if it wasn’t for this habit.
The result is a small notebook filled with small grainy prints made on a heat printer. Strangely enough, the process of printing and sticking each photo in this little notebook feels more meaningful than the act of taking the photo itself. It’s during that slow and tactile process that the memories seem to crystallize in my mind.
It’s a small ritual that helps time feel less slippery. It reminds me that even the most ordinary days are full of things worth noticing and remembering.
The thermal prints looks rad as fuck
really love this!