Do photos steal your soul?

When I lived in Kosovo I literally took thousands of photographs. I was warned that the Roma population there did not like to be photographed because of the belief that it stole their souls. Naturally, I scoffed at that notion but I did respect their wishes. I did get a few photos of some Gypsy children one time when they posed for the camera. Their mothers were present and they didn't object.
A couple of weeks ago I was visiting my mother and we went through a ton of old photos. Going through these was a big treat when I was growing up. About once a year or so, maybe on a rainy day or something, one of us would say, "Let's look at pictures!" and we would scramble to get out the small black trunk my parents used to store them in. And we would go through them and laugh at the old fashioned hair styles, the old cars, the hopelessly outdated dresses and so on.
It had been quite a few years since I had seen some of these photos because my mother has been on a scrapbooking venture for quite awhile and has been rather secretive about her project. Whenever we asked to see these old photos she was a little vague.
So on my recent visit I asked to see them again and she dug some out. Included in the prints was a pile of negatives. So we held to the light a bunch of them and I could see that there was a virtual treasure trove in them. I asked if I could take them home to scan and she let me borrow them.
The night I arrived home I started in scanning them and I was amazed at how many of them I have no recollection of ever seeing before. That includes this one that I am posting here. This is me and my Sissy in about 1952. I uploaded the scanned negative into Photoshop and then inverted the image. I'm telling you, I got a lump in my throat the second I saw it. This was such a special time in our lives. We were so happy in that house in Ft. Collins. Another sister and a brother were born during the time we lived in there. And my big sister was just "IT" for me. I probably drove her crazy. I remember one time I was allowed to walk to the city bus stop with her which was about half a block from our house. She had plans that did not include me and I was bereft at the thought of her leaving. I cried and clung to her so long that the bus driver finally gave up on her, shut the door and drove off. But she didn't even complain to me and my tears dried up before we even got home. What a brat I was.
But that picture just says it all. I swear, looking at it, it is just like being there again. And I could swear that some part of our souls are in that image.