Cleanup felt like pruning: careful, necessary. As duplicate files disappeared, disk space returned in neat, honest chunks. But the real change was less technical. The album that had been a scattered jumble now read like a story. Sam could open the folder and walk through moments in order, each image chosen for clarity and fidelity. There was still mess—a few deliberate duplicates kept as backups, a folder of experimental edits saved for nostalgia—but overall, the collection breathed.
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