A while ago I found a film (as in 35mm Kodak). I'd no idea where it was from. The tail of the film was inside the canister, so it either had being used or I'd rolled it up into the film. It was a mystery, a tiny time capsule from who knows when.
I pondered for quite a while (until the local co-op chemist had a half price film developing offer on) and then handed it in. It was put in an envelope sealed and I was given a thin strip of paper  indicating it would be ready in 5 working days. The mystery continued. A week later I popped into the chemist and got my snaps back in a thin card envelope, would I have 24 pictures of a black cat at night or would they be the most amazing photos I'd ever taken, as interesting and sharp as a QI retort from Stephen Fry? They were in fact some reasonable photos from the San Francisco hop of my round the world trip of 2004, although 5 years stuck in the canister meant there were quite a few blemishes and colour casts.  They include shots of Alcatraz, including the tour guide who had her catchphrase when describing the death of inmates in escape attempts,  "Did they escape, well they didn't come back" and an old friend Dave, who I'd just got in touch with beforehand, and his wife who was quite pregnant. their child will be nearly 5 now.
There were lots of feelings associated with these pictures that I just don't seem to get with my digital pictures on screen. Maybe it's the physicality of the prints or the rather long time since I took them or maybe it's the opening of the envelope with no foreknowledge of it's content to then suddenly having  the memories blasted back from your subconscious.
Obviously I can't put the photos here on a piece of modern technology as they're in a thin card envelope stuck on a shelf in our home office, possibly not to be opened for another few years.

P.S. I'm trying out posterous.com as a blogging tool, so any weird formatting I can blame on them.