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I forget everything when I’m taking pictures. If I’ve set myself a project, small as it may be, and I’m walking around watching and absorbing the things around me, everything fades away. It may be cold, or too warm, or maybe the elements are somehow against me, or the light, but slowly it feels like a bubble grows around me preventing me from noticing. Just a week ago I nearly suffered heatstroke, but my eyes watering, my feet, legs and arms covered in ashes, I still went on. I love this, it’s like being home, in my head.
Most of the time I can’t do this. Commitments, and my own disorganised nature, prevent me from achieving this ideal state of creation. And I need to be on my own. Other people distract me. Social connections make me feel awkward and then inside I can’t function.
Sometimes I have to fight against this need, to remember that after the event there must be an outlet for the work to exist. That is where I die. The desk work, the planning, it’s all too unnatural.