Rekindling.

I can’t remember the last time I spent hours, wasted sleep, and poured through photography blogs. I’m not entirely sure what this means. Maybe it means nothing, and I’m OK with that.

I have such a strange relationship to photography, with photography. It broke me several years ago and I’ve pretty much put down my camera ever since. I don’t think it was so much intentional as it just started feeling like a burden. A relationship I could no longer hold my heart out to, wage battle over. More practically, and less romantically, I just got really tired of carrying my camera around.

But I still remember that day, on my knees…in a bathroom. I let my photos go and I gave them over. And even when they were taken, two months later, the pain of it was hard to swallow. It’s still hard to swallow, those stolen memories.

Still, there’s something familiar there, looking into the story of a photo. Even if they are from a lens that doesn’t belong to me.

This is a relationship I don’t understand. It feels bruised and vulnerable, and I’m timid to touch it again. Nonetheless, the black and whites of Steven, Mustafah and Elliot keep me looking over at my camera, toying with the possibility.