I love taking pictures. To the common eye most would assume my love for pictures is a suggestion of my own conceit but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Pictures for me are only but a way to keep a tiny piece of now as I go into the future.
There are few momentous occasions that I entrust to human memory alone. I like hard copies of my best memories. To me, the human memory is subjective and extremely fragile sometimes escaping to the far recesses of our mind—and even being completely erased by time. While memory leaves occasion open to interpretation, there’s a sureness that’s comes with a picture.