Today I went out for a photo walk carrying two companions: my trusted Ricoh GR IIIx and an old Nikon F-301 loaded with Fujicolor C200. I made myself a promise: film first. And I kept it.

For most of the walk I lived with the slowness of film. The heavier body, the small rituals, the uncertainty of what will come back from the lab. Only at the very end did I take the Ricoh out of my pocket. And the moment I did, I felt the contrast—its lightness, its immediacy, the effortless way it slips into the hand and responds without hesitation.

As I walked, questions began circling in my mind:

Will I make better photographs with film? Probably not.

Will those photographs receive more attention online? Probably yes.

Is the weight, the developing, the scanning worth it—for me? I realized… maybe not.

Film has its charm. It teaches patience, it surprises, it can add a texture of nostalgia that people love—especially on social platforms. But I also began to notice something else: with the analog SLR hanging from my neck, I felt very visible. People’s eyes were drawn to the camera. I became the one with the camera. With the Ricoh, it’s the opposite—I’m almost invisible. Quiet. Present. And for me, that comfort of being unnoticed matters more than it might seem.

So I started to see that perhaps I was chasing the idea of film as much as the images themselves. The idea that shooting film makes you cool. Instagram might think so. But does that bring me joy? Not really.

The truth is, I love digital. I love my Ricoh. I love the freedom of traveling light, of knowing I can focus on seeing rather than on the logistics of chemicals and scans—or the attention a big camera attracts.

And there’s something else: lately there’s a trend to dismiss anything fast, immediate, or “instant.” I realize I let that idea influence me, too. But honestly—there is beauty in speed as well. It’s a gift to come home from a long walk, sink into bed with tired legs, and already be able to look through the photographs. That immediacy has its own kind of magic.

Film, for me, is not a destination but an occasional detour—a refreshing side path. So I won’t abandon it, but I also won’t force it into being my main medium. My photography feels most alive when it’s simple, light, and unburdened.

In the end, it’s not about what others celebrate—it’s about what keeps me curious, what keeps me walking, camera in hand.