The boy speaks like flowers

“One day when you’re dead and I’m all grown up I hope I remember how happy we were.”

“The universe isn’t necessary. The universe has no need to exist. None of it is needed. But it exists and we live in it and it means we have to spend our life doing lots of boring things”

“I don’t like human logic so I’m not going to use it.”

“The tooth fairy doesn’t exist. A few days ago I lost another tooth and I put it under my pillow and didn’t tell you anything. I checked every morning and the tooth was always there, but not any money. I think it’s you mummy who puts the money there. I think she doesn’t exist and you made it up.”

 

“Sometimes I think life is heaven and hell at the same time. Like there’s Donald Trump but there’s also nature and good things like that. I don’t think there’s really afterlife. I think this is all there is”

 

He was a late talker and by the time he could speak he used to make a squeaky noise and tell me that’s how flowers sound when they speak. After he was diagnosed as being on the Autism Spectrum I had to learn who he was, and I realised how many character traits we shared, which placed us both in the privileged position of often interpreting the world as we decide it must be rather than how it presents itself.

Photographing him I am mirroring his quirks and explorations as he grows up in the context of my own sensitivity and imagination, as a mother and a photographer, but also as someone who can highly relate to his experiences. He performs and I interpret, like two characters in the same story, responding to environments and sensory experiences as we journey together in our connected roles.

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Mother. Land.