Permission to fail
Film photography as parallel practice, or how to forget your audience and shoot from the hip
Growing up, the written word was a place of solace for me. Even before I began losing my hearing I was a shy little weirdo who felt better escaping into someone else’s brain than being in mine. Later, after my mom encouraged me to start journaling (and I stopped fighting the idea out of spite), being able to pour out my secret thoughts and organize my d…
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