I grew up in a black-and-white world. All photos taken with my big, clunky Brownie box camera were with black-and-white film. Until Kodak revolutionized the industry with Kodachrome, all photographs looked like Whistler's Mother. One would never know from photos that my sister had beautiful red hair back in the day (but maybe the freckles gave it away). All movies were black and white. In that scene in "The Wizard of Oz" where Dorothy lands in Oz and the movie switches to Technicolor, it was truly magical and the theater audience gasped. The first televisions were only black and white; something we were used to, but a step backwards.
Cameras got smaller as time went on and almost all commercial film was in color. In the 1980s, an ex-sister-in-law and I toured Europe. We agreed in advance that we would each take 12 rolls of film (24 pictures per roll) and alternate our shots so as to get the biggest bang (the most photos) for our buck. I had not realized that she was technologically inept. A couple of times she opened the camera, exposed the roll of film and lost everything. I don't know what she did, but found out later that several of her rolls turned out nothing but blue pictures. After the first fiasco, I took pictures of everything so we'd have something to look back on. Returning home, it cost a fortune to have the photos developed and took weeks.
Opening an eye at four this morning, the moon was just clearing the eastern horizon. It was like a slice of bright orange pumpkin lying on its back. I had a brief thought of trying to take a picture, but good sense prevailed. Rolling over, I went back to sleep for another hour. (But it would have been a great photograph.)