searching for softness

Looking at my earlier photographs, I see someone who was searching for softness. From a young age, unsavory experiences forced me to find spectacular little worlds in every detail. It was certainly a coping mechanism, but it brought me more joy than I could’ve ever imagined. An erupting, elation-laden sense of wonder still lives within me - something I deeply love about myself.

I also see a girl who was misunderstood. She deserved grace and patience, a helping hand. Parts of me still want to be understood as desperately as I did then - by everyone. An impossibility, one that I’m learning to let go of (or at least trying to).

Rowdy concert floors become swirls of rouge, powdery and delicate to the touch. Seconds of reflection in gritty greenrooms, quiet and calm. Crowds dancing on a boardwalk, many lives lived, different stories to tell. Parking lots near dusk become moments of contemplation, days ending where another will begin. Performers cradled by the crowd, like mountains cradled by other mountains, layers of atmospheric perspective. Each of these are little treasures.

In the mundane, in the chaotic, in the grandiose, in the miniscule, I will always, always search for softness.