Then I get to the photo that he took of me while we were sitting in the booth. My hair is a mess, but I’m kind of smiling, like I’m about to say something clever. It is very strange, but I look . . . pretty. I flip back a little further and find a few more pictures of me, which I’d assumed at the time would be throwaway shots. But here they are, alive with light and beautifully composed. There’s me furrowing my forehead as I read my notebook, standing against the backdrop of a blurred crowd. There’s me turning around to peer at something beyond the lens, wreathed by the gold and white
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AAAWWWWWWWW LENNN
