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I had a Diana camera when I was five years old. It must have been an original. Of course, I didn't know it at the time. It was black plastic, with grey plastic at the top and bottom. It was given to me by my parents so I could have a camera. Back then, the film was hard to come by, so I only used it maybe three or four times in total. Years later, I lost it. But I still remember it: the little lever on the side of the lens, the semi-transparent red plastic on the back through which you saw what exposure you were on, the click-clicking sound of the winding-on wheel. Flash forward twenty-five years: I'm all growed up (mostly), earning a crust as a lawyer (never saw that one coming aged five) and browsing a shop in Oxford Street when there it is: on the shelf, the same type of camera from all those years ago. And suddenly, there's a wave of nostalgia, the years peel away and I feel like I've found an old friend, an old childhood friend, and I know, standing there, that that camera will be mine. And I know that I have found the camera I will keep for the rest of my life. Good, bad, ugly or indifferent though the photographic/lomographic results may be, this is my camera, my piece of childhood refound, my friend for life. This is my journey. You're more than welcome to join me for the ride, as I hope I am invited to join yours. A bientot, mes amis. show more show less

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