How sad, when you try so hard in photographs to hide who you are; the forced smile, the look of desperation, of want-lust, love, hate. The wish and the promise of something more than no-one else can ever give, the look of hunger and disgust but also of sheer hopelessness. You crawl around on all fours but try so hard to pull yourself up because you cannot face this single vision any longer. It’s like a curse to you, the days spiraling in and out of each other like an endless stream of emotions and disappointments. You look so happy but in the sense that it feels like you are pleading, wanting someone to pay you attention and not cut you out, the arrogance, the shame. And still you are only half there, like time has been wasted on this endless struggle. Like a fish pulling itself upstream through storm and rain only be eaten by a larger fish who never even had to try, who’s charm and force was enough to push through life without the inconvenience of wanting and wishing and hoping. But you’ve far from had enough. You will keep thinking that one day.. one day.. and the saddest thing is the answer lies there dormant waiting for you to discover it, and take it away.

If I can tell all of this from a photograph, imagine what else I could know.