Today we cull our travel photos into bite-sized chunks, easily digestable over a glass of wine or cup of tea.
We flirt with the idea of an old-fashioned slide night, complete with safari suit and toothpicks stabbed into tiny slabs of cabana, pineapple and cheese.
We don't make photo albums any more. We make folders with neat names that we back up onto external hard drives and syphon onto memory sticks.
At best we upload the best of the lot onto Facebook.
Will grand children discover them in a shoe box one day and wonder how to convert them into something they can see with their teeny tiny futuristic technology?
Our sight bites.
The shiny tiny mementos of our dream like memories.