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Kindle Notes & Highlights
Agreat photograph makes you think you know the subject, even if you’ve never met. A great photo reaches out and pulls you inside the moment, so you can feel, smell, and taste it. And this, by all accounts, is a great photo.
“I’m turning thirty-three tomorrow. You’d think I’d be a little braver.” “I think the older we get, the scarier shit becomes.”
“But the thing about love languages,” Charlie says, “is it’s not just about how we express love, but how we receive love. You need someone to do something for you that makes you feel loved. Someone to help you.” I shake my head. “I hate asking for help.” “That’s because deep down, you want someone to see what you need before you have to ask.”
“You laugh, Alice. You laugh that big, beautiful laugh of yours. And you’re more like yourself when you’re together. You’re always so busy taking care of everyone and making people happy, but you’re different around Charlie. There’s a lightness to you I haven’t seen in a long time—like you have the freedom to just be when you’re with him.”
“No, it’s because when you speak, he listens. When you smile, he smiles. When you need something, he offers help. When you give him something, he thanks you. You’re peas and carrots—I think you’ve found yourself a lifelong friend.”
He looks at you like you’re a scoop of ice cream on the hottest day of summer.”
I hate having my photo taken. But as I began to assemble images for this show, I was inspired by the courage of my subjects. I decided it wasn’t fair of me to ask for their vulnerability without confronting my own. It’s one of the most terrifying things we all do—allow people to see us without all our protective layers.
