There were long patches of my life when there were no photos. When I was a single mom was one of those times.
I had my daughter’s school pictures but there weren’t a lot of other pictures. A few. Her father had been the photographer in the family and when he and I split up, he kept his photos of her and us.
I went for a long time undocumented. There wasn’t a camera in the house. Cell phones hadn’t been invented. I lived my late twenties and early thirties as a person not thinking about lasting images. Even though, many a time, I felt as beautiful as Layla. You had to have lived then to know that would have been a fine way to feel.
Then I got married again. And I somehow rejoined the part of society where people had cameras and used them. I had spent years not posing. Caring…
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