We are not our photographs.
We are not our photographs, and afterward we are nothing but. We look through lenses instead of putting our naked eye against the air; this frame is where our lives will land regardless. Acid free paper staves off forgetfulness, but replaces memory with memorization. We have an unquenchable need to capture everything within the fluttering of a shutter, but a shutter must blink, must close off and finish to catch. We must blink. We must look away. It is the spaces in between gazes that catch up with us, that hold meaning or make it meaningful. We are those spaces, created in darkness, we are bookends and we are the gap between frames. We lose track of the edges, but it is all edges, almost all horizon, where the borders of the borders fade quickly into their own endings, the way all beginnings must.