Macro shots during a visit to Magpie Bridge on the way to Tavistock. Kayla had her sketchbook and I filmed a crow flying that ended up in a looped video on Instagram maybe 30 years later.
One of those strange bits of film which have attached memories that aren’t on celluloid: sharply turning off the busy main road to Tavistock having spotted the sign at the last moment, navigating some awkward parking, walking over a grassy bank into the woods for the first time, heading towards the river. None of that is on film. I remember seeing the small red fruiting bodies on the lichen and the feel of the bark as I steadied the camera with its macro setting engaged. Tracking the flight of a crow through the trees in a shot which ended on Instagram decades later.
Is it too much of a stretch to think of the filmed scenes and the attendant memories as symbiotic like the algae living among filaments of fungi in lichens?