I just recently went through some past photo albums and couldn't help but post some. To be honest, a lot of these photos are ones that I forgot about. Ones that I love dearly. Ones that surprised me. Not all of them are great but all of them have a story. Let's begin.
Oh, Brian and Brian. They were an adventure. Met them in the street marketplace in Costa Rica selling fish on Saturday and ended up going to Fofos, a local bar, on Monday. Our communication was a mush of English, Spanish and dancing. One Brian ended up being a not-so-nice guy. The other Brian I would've married. Hah. I cherish these boys. They mark a good time in my life.
Holy heavens, Erin is a beauty. This is not a photo I forget, but one that surprises me every time. The life that jumps out of this picture is something that I love.
I have a love/hate relationship with this one. However, the reasons why I love it far outweigh the reason I hate it. I hate it because of that tree. That beautiful tree that holds the brightest colored fruit. It's just hanging out in the middle of this picture. Disrupting the flow. But once I get past that, I end up loving that tree. I actually like that it's an invader. It makes this one picture into two. One half is the land of Italy. Beautiful. The other half is a couple. They are both reading books. They both have their shoes off. They both are total silence. I love those people. I don't think my camera could ever capture the beauty and peace that surrounded that bench. The entirety of this picture is what I imagine my life to be one day. It is my goal.
This I actually forgot about. 100%. Hah. The apartment below ours staged an attack while we were out. When I returned, I found Eleanor sitting in the midst of multicolored yarn. I couple this picture with good memories because, instead of taking a machete to the brush and brier, Eleanor and I sat together, sharing stories.
This was the first time I did a photo shoot for me. This was a time when I wanted to figure out what I wanted to capture in a picture. A time to practice. This started a steady stream of photo shoots with volunteers, themes, colors, ideas, props. This started my craving for taking photos for me. And now I'm at the point to where if I don't do a photoshoot for me, then I start to feel a cavity. Anxiety. I have to shoot up regularly. I think I'm addicted.
We snuck this picture while the pastor prayed over the bride and groom. This boy's facial expression couldn't be more perfect.
This is also clumped in that great year. The one where I only have fun. Kacey and June, their bodies wrapped in bubble wrap and packing pillows, went into the lobby and sumo wrestled. A year of laughter. I don't think anyone has had as much fun as we did.
I don't really think this is a good photo from an outside standpoint. I don't remember why we were all reaching for that food. Why it needed to be immortalized. What the joke was. But it makes me smile, seeing all those partial faces that I adore smiling.
This is another picture that surprises me. I won't have to edit this ever. It's perfect. And it's packed full of good memories.
Sometimes I think about that question--if your house was on fire, what's the one thing you'd grab before vacating?--just to see what my answer is. When I was younger I would always choose the most valuable things. Money. Cd's. Whatever else 9 year old Carmen cherished. And now I love my books. Writing. But I love my photos. I guess, to be gushy and stupid, the pictures I take are my life. Moments and people I love enough to immortalize. They help me not forget.
I carry little pieces of the people I love. These people and memories can make anywhere feel like home.
