Why you should stop relying on your phone, and buy a nice camera — theverge.com

Like so many angsty teenagers, I had proudly worn the affectations of a tortured artist: long hair dyed black, grungy corduroys, and of course my mother’s hand-me-down Minolta camera. On weekends, I snapped photos of whatever suburban adventures I got myself into. On weekdays, I ran rolls through Walmart’s 1-Hour Photo, sifted through the still-sticky prints for any winners, then added the rest to my growing shoebox collection, which at some point I (or more likely one of my parents) tossed in the closet with my Detroit Red Wings jacket from the winter of 1998.

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