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I pulled out the old, aluminium memory, smelling its remnants of its now nonexistent power. Its casing was a beautiful work now marred with cobwebs. Once fast ports lined the sides, with smudges from days of hard work and enjoyment. 

Alas, it was now dead to the world. Its once vibrant screen has long stopped working, its once labelled “game-changing” keyboard was stiff and refused to be typed on... No use crying over spilt coke. 

However, its presence still echoed its proud days of power. No longer being able to resist it, I opened its top with quavering fingers, almost afraid to disturb its accumulated dust.

 Then the impossible happened. Its keyboard lights came on, blinked at me for a moment, then gave out and resumed its sleep. 

But it was enough to remind me of days where I spent hours crouching over it, finishing a shot, or watching with proudness as it waded through renders, frame after frame, numbers crawling slowly. I let the overpowering force of nostalgia run over me, washing on aluminium beaches like waves. 


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