For as long as I can remember, my Dad carried two photos in his wallet, both taken a Voigtlander camera that he exchanged for cigarettes, from surrendering german troops, in 1944/5.
One was a photo of himself and some contemporary WWII conscripts, with a camel and a pyramid in the background, taken just post war in a context I never really understood. The other was a rather fetching photo of a lady standing by the railings on Blackpool Pier that, on closer inspection, was my Mum.
These photos were very precious to him and he showed begrudging gratitude when I scanned them, and photoshopped out some of the scratches and defects. But I really can’t imagine he’d have been impressed if I’d gone for the “cartoon” look of imaginary colours.