I remember when I was younger, my only means of sharing files was through e-mail or flash drives, or USBs as we commonly call it. File uploading sites existed then but abysmal internet speeds in the Philippines, especially at home, made it impractical. If I needed something printed, I had to carry my flash drive with me to the nearest internet café, hoping it wouldn't slip out of my pocket. If I needed to present something I made at home at school, I made sure my flash drive was in my bag the night before. And if my friend had a copy of a film or TV show or even a cracked portable version of Photoshop then, all we needed was each other's USBs so that both of us would have something to watch or learn together after school. It was with me most of the time. And back then it just seemed common for everyone in my circle to have one or even two. Today, we hardly see these being carried around.

A lot has changed. Supercharged smartphones and improvements in mobile internet speeds and accessibility have made file sharing possible without the need for a flash drive. Everything is up in the cloud. But despite USBs becoming almost obsolete, some folks still find interest in looking for new ways to use them, or at least view them with a different lens.

When I first found out about the USB Club project, a social file exchange for designers, artists, researchers, and alike, I became fascinated by the idea of reframing the use of this device that is so familiar yet often overlooked. A lot of questions came into my mind: how did our treatment of files evolve as technology progressed? How are files in flash drives different from files in the cloud? When I stumbled upon an image of a flash drive worn as a necklace, a thought struck me: can a USB hold memories like a locket does?

For centuries, lockets have been a way for people to keep mementos of their loved ones close to them wherever they go. While they're usually known to be heart-shaped in form, these pendants can come in different shapes and sizes. At some point, coins were even used to create makeshift lockets. They called them trade dollar lockets. A magazine from 1893 that featured these lockets says it best:

The trade dollar locket is a pretty thing to have around. There is such an amount of satisfaction in the knowledge that hidden away in that innocent-looking coin is a dear face which no one else can discover, but which you can reveal at pleasure because you know just where to press the hidden spring.

My USB locket is not much different from these lockets of the past. It holds files that are dearest to me: a photo of my boyfriend and I, a video of my trip to Taipei, and a folder filled with photos of me and my friends that my boyfriend collected from them as a birthday gift. Having these files inside a tiny physical device, they feel more tangible and important, as if they should be handled with care. It reminds me of the care I had for that flash drive I was carrying to the computer shop to get my homework printed. To a degree, it's as if losing this locket also means losing things I value and treasure. Even if the potential for loss is magnified, I still find it more wonderful than worrying because the desire to hold on to them also magnifies.

Wearing this, I've learned that something ubiquitous can also be beautiful if we make it out to be. My USB locket isn't something original, but it is mine to hold and to take care of. In an age where anything in the cloud can be taken away from you any minute, it feels freeing to know that some of my cherished memories live in something I can hold.