IN A DREAM YOU SAW A WAY TO SURVIVE AND YOU WERE FULL OF JOY

Pride is one of those things that it is hard for me to find words for. This year more than any other, especially. I've been to NYC Pride (and any Pride march, period) three times in my life: 2011, 2015, and 2016. In 2011 I went with two friends for a couple of hours — it was the year that marriage equality became New York State law — and I loved it but I didn't feel it. Last year I stumbled across the parade semi-accidentally while running errands. This year I went with purpose. My friend Sophie texted me a couple weeks ago and asked if I wanted to come with her. My work planned an afterparty with an open bar. The Orlando shooting happened.

49 of my family, killed in a nightclub.

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spring

These photos of Kelly are from the last day in April. I got a haircut, then met her at a Starbucks and we headed over to Central Park. Blossoming spring photos may as well be a tradition at this point. (So is me posting them late, it seems.) It was a beautiful day, and I finally, finally figured out how to free lens, which I have been trying to figure out since the first time Kelly and I shot together!

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2016/366/3 + 4

I've fallen, almost, into the same trap I always do. I come home late and by the time I've eaten dinner and settled in, I'm tired. I don't want to shoot or I don't know what to take photos of. It isn't easy to get into the rhythm of daily photography when I often am not really doing anything, and I have to search a subject out in my apartment so I don't get sick of my own face looking back at me from the camera screen. (No wonder so many 365s are largely self-portraiture; if you don't want to do still life, what else can you do?) So I search the still lifes out. The most artfully arranged things in my home are my makeup and perfume collections, so those begin to appear more and more.

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